The Fic Writer
by Loss Of Hesitation
Summary: When a recently deceased Danny Phantom fan is snubbed by her favorite cartoon character, she seeks the aid of Ghost Writer and his Keyboard to carry out her revenge using the only weapon she has: Fanfiction!
1. Chapter 1 A Fangirl Scorned

**Summary:** When a recently deceased Danny Phantom fan is snubbed by her favorite cartoon character, she seeks the aid of Ghost Writer and his Keyboard to carry out her revenge using the only weapon she has: Fanfiction!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Danny Phantom or any of its characters, settings, or episodes, but Fic Writer is wholly a product of my overactive imagination.

This is meant to be a friendly parody of fanfic in general. I mean no harm, I promise. But, because it is a parody, there will be elements of fanfics from far and wide included in later chapters, including an OC (who is hopefully not a Mary-Sue), a purposeful Mary-Sue, some serious OOC behavior, slash, bad rhyming, and anything else my twisted mind happens to think up.

I've been sitting on this story for a while, but I didn't want to upload another story until I'd gotten Teen Mother a bit farther along. Unfortunately, this has been refusing to let me write anything for Teen Mother, so before I have to painfully force another chapter of that out, I decided I'd get this out so I can actually _enjoy _writing my other story again. The rating is only a precaution for later chapters.

Hope you enjoy!

**note:** I've edited this a bit since I first posted it, since there are parts of it that have been brought to my attention that I don't particularly like. I'm not sure I love the way it is, now, but it's an improvement. I might change it more a bit later.

* * *

Her mother teased her about her affection for the show; it was naturally a loving sort of teasing, but there was a sense of honest bewilderment behind it all the same.

"You're seventeen," she would say, shaking her head. "What could you possibly find so interesting about a kid's cartoon?"

The girl would just shrug. "What can I say? It makes my inner child happy," she'd reply, grinning.

And her mother would laugh. "If you say so. It's actually sort of sweet, the way you get all excited whenever it's on TV."

At this, the girl would make a noncommittal sort of noise. She didn't like to lie to her mother, but she certainly wasn't planning to divulge just how much of a time-sink Danny Phantom had become for her. The show had crept into her life like something feline stalking through tall grass and, before she could register what was happening, the girl found herself mired solidly in the DP fandom: fanart, fic, RPs, chat rooms_, slash_. She had then decided almost immediately that the less her mother knew about these activities, the better. In fact, the girl didn't really share the extent of her obsession with anyone, save for the other members of the fandom she'd met on the internet. And, really, that was enough for her.

…

It was the last day of summer vacation before her senior year of high school; the air outside was muggy and humid, so she had retreated indoors to the comfort of her air-conditioned bedroom. The summer reading she'd been assigned lay, untouched, in the far corner. She'd made multiple attempts to actually complete the assignment, but, every time she'd picked one of the books up, she'd been overcome by the thought that she was reading it in preparation for her _last year of high school_. The thought was frightening enough to make her drop the book like it had bitten her.

And so she had taken _Jane Eyre _and _1984 _and _A Room of One's Own_ and piled them up and shoved them under her bed, as though she could prolong her summer by never touching them. But time, as it is wont to do, slipped by, anyway, and soon enough she found herself with only one more day of freedom and several unread books. One more day of relative childhood before she had to grow up and start applying to colleges and decide what she wanted to do with the rest of her life—a life that seemed to be sprinting away from her at a horrifying pace. Just thinking about it made her want to scream.

So she decided not to think about it. In a rather benign act of rebellion, she continued to ignore her summer work and, instead, locked herself in her room and sought the familiar comfort of _Nicktoons. _The universe seemed to approve of her academic avoidance; the commercial break wound down, and the girl let out an excited squeal as the proper programming came back.

"Someone up there must like me," she grinned, settling in to enjoy the incredibly providential and unexpected back-to-school marathon of Danny Phantom. She caught only the last few minutes of Reign Storm, but her disappointment lasted only as long as it took her notice that the next slot was being filled by Bitter Reunions. It went without saying that she was thrilled, but the feeling was tempered by a strange sense of loss.

"You have got it _made_, Danny," she said a little sadly. "You've got that exciting life, an awesome family, great friends, and you always get to be the hero. Plus, _you_ never have to worry about getting older. God, I'm jealous."

On the screen, Danny aimed a green ecto-blast at one of Vlad's ghostly vulture minions, oblivious to her babbling. She sighed, a heavy, frustrated sigh that ached down into her chest. When the episode cut to its first commercial, she stood and stretched, and went downstairs to hunt down something edible, and preferably sweet. Her mother was in the kitchen doing dishes.

"She's alive! What have you been doing all day, locked up all alone in your room?"

"Summer reading," the girl lied, peering into the fridge.

"Oh, okay." Her mother sounded vaguely relieved.

The girl grabbed a can of Pepsi out of the fridge and moved towards the stairs, but her mother called her back before she could get upstairs.

"Pumpkin, before you go back upstairs, do you think you could do me a quick favor? Mrs. Marmel borrowed my measuring spoons, and I need them back if I'm ever going to get started on that cake I promised your brother to celebrate his first day of kindergarten."

"Then why can't _he _go get them?" Her mother sent her a dark look. "Okay, okay, I'm going."

"Thank you, dear."

Mrs. Marmel was the woman who lived across the street from the girl—she was an alright sort, really. Better than anyone else on the street, the population of which consisted of the girl and her family, Mrs. Marmel, and a collection of strange, grumpy, elderly retirees. And, though she didn't mind Mrs. Marmel, she really would've preferred to be back up in her room, watching Danny's shocked expression as Vlad transformed into Plasmius before his disbelieving eyes.

"I'm gonna miss the whole episode," she grumbled, cracking open her Pepsi and starting down the driveway. And Mrs. Marmel would probably try to get her to come inside for a while—the woman made a mean peanut butter cookie, fair, but the girl could already see herself getting stuck on that horrible floral-print sofa while Mrs. Marmel asked her about school and the precious minutes of the Danny Phantom marathon leaked steadily away from her. She tossed back a mouthful of soda as she stepped off the curb. She never noticed the car.

…

Like most teenagers, she'd gone through a "Goth" phase somewhere in her early teens and so had given more than her fair share of thought to the matter of death. She hadn't exactly developed any concrete expectations during these musings, but if she had, she never would have expected this.

"Am I…in the Ghost Zone?" The last thing she could remember was the taste of soda and the screeching of breaks; there had been a brief moment of something that might've been pain, that sucked the air from her lungs and burst into flares of color behind her eyes. There had been no long tunnel, no bright light, no smiling beings in spotless white robes singing celestial harmonies, none of the things she had heard about on those TV programs about near-death experiences.

This…this was so much better. She looked around her, at the endless miles of hazy, goopy, green broken here and there by the occasional daub of purple delineating distant portals.

"Am I dreaming?" she wondered out loud. It wasn't likely, sure—a coma? She'd read about people who fall into comas and have long, vivid dreams that seem so real that they go into shock when they finally wake up.

"Hey, you."

The girl spun around to face a tall, imposing figure with shiny black boots, an impeccable, crisp white suit, and a leering skull's face topped by a black cowboy hat. She swallowed a swear.

"Walker."

Walker frowned. "That's right," he near-growled in his chilling drawl. He drew closer, squinting. "I haven't seen you around here, before. You're not from…out-of-town, are you?"

The girl was speechless. "Uh," she stammered. "No-not exactly."

"Then you know the rules," said Walker, cracking his black-gloved knuckles.

"Well." The girl laughed nervously. "You know, it never hurts to have your memory refreshed when it comes to these sorts of things, does it?"

Walker let out a snarl. "Are you talking back to me, punk? Because that's against the rules."

The girl backed away. "No!" she assured Walker hurriedly. "I'm not talking back! I swear! I would never. I, I respect you way too much, obviously." She held her arms in front of her face and squinted her eyes shut in expectation of a blow. But none came. Cautiously, she opened her eyes. Walker seemed to be pondering something, arms crossed, chin propped thoughtfully on one hand.

"Hmmmmm," he said. "Respect the Warden. That would make a great new rule." He pulled a huge book from his pocket and flipped through the pages, running his finger along the text. Then he snapped it shut, eyeing the girl suspiciously.

"You can go for now," he said, threat lingering in his tone. "But if I see you around here again, you won't get off so easy."

"Yes sir, Mr. Walker, sir!" The girl gave a salute and shot away as quickly as she could, plowing deeper into the unfamiliar territory of the Ghost Zone.

…

The bell rang for third period, and Danny lifted his head from his desk to find Mr. Lancer glaring at him from the front of the room.

"Aw man, I fell asleep again, didn't I?" he groaned.

"Yup," replied Tucker, gathering his books and shoving them into his backpack. "But don't worry; I already e-mailed you all the notes you missed from my PDA."

"Uh, Tuck?" said Sam. "Somehow, I feel like the notes are the least of Danny's worries."

Tucker glanced at the glowering Mr. Lancer and winced. "Yeah, you've probably got a point there. Well, see you later, Danny!"

"Hope you don't get detention!" cried Sam, and the two of them darted quickly out of the room.

Danny groaned. "With friends like you guys, who needs Plasmius?" Slowly, he gathered his books and walked to where Mr. Lancer was waiting for him by the door.

"I'm sorry to see that you find _Romeo and Juliet_ so boring, Mr. Fenton," the teacher said, raising one eyebrow.

"Sorry, Mr. Lancer," apologized Danny. "I just haven't been sleeping so well the past few nights."

"I see." Mr. Lancer crossed his arms over his ample stomach. "Well, I won't give you detention…this time. But I expect a report on my desk tomorrow morning on the first act of _Romeo and Juliet_. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mr. Lancer." With the burden of extra schoolwork hanging over his head, Danny slouched out of the classroom.

Third period classes had already started—the hallway was empty. Danny hitched up his backpack and started towards his next class, heaving a heavy sigh that turned into blue mist in the air in front of him.

"Oh, great. This is just what I need right now." Glancing around, Danny prepared to go ghost, but he was interrupted by a very loud, very happy exclamation.

"Danny! Holy cow, it's really you!"

Danny felt someone barrel into him from behind, tackling him to the floor in an over-enthusiastic hug. This gave way soon enough to a stream of conversation.

"You can't imagine how hard it was to find you; I must've spent hours wandering around the Ghost Zone looking for the Ghost Portal that would lead to your house. And then getting here was a huge pain, since they never really tell you how to in the show, and—"

Danny sat up, angrily interrupting the ghost who had grabbed him.

"Who the heck are you?" he demanded. "And what in the world are you talking about?"

The ghost—a dark-haired girl who looked to be around Jazz's age—blinked at him. Then, slowly, she grinned.

"Me? I'm your biggest fan."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Riiiiiiight," he said. "Look, I think you've got me confused with someone else." He stood and dusted himself off. The ghost, her smile disappearing from her face, followed suit.

"Trust me, Danny, I'm not confused," she assured him. She paused. "There's so much I need to tell you, and none of it is going to make sense. Could we talk?"

This was going to be Klemper all over again, he could already tell. Danny sighed. "I don't really have time for this," he told the ghost girl.

She looked hurt. "Oh," she said quietly. She sounded like she might cry. "Maybe later, then?"

"I don't think so," said Danny. He felt a little bad to be hurting the ghost, but he really didn't have time for her. He had to get to class before he was assigned any _more _extra work. And he really didn't need any more undead friends.

"But," she protested. "But, Danny, I-"

"Look," said Danny, as kindly as her could. "I don't know how you know my name, but I'm not interested in being friends, okay? You should go back to the Ghost Zone where you belong, or I'm going to have to force you to."

The ghost's face brightened. "Would you put me in the Fenton Thermos?" she asked cheerfully.

"How do you even—? Never mind." Danny waved vaguely. "I have to go." With that, he shouldered his backpack and turned to leave.

The ghost grabbed his arm. "Wait, Danny, please don't go."

"For Pete's sake…" Danny whirled around and pushed the ghost away. "Leave me alone!" Jeez, this ghost was persistent. Danny was starting to believe that she had an ulterior motive behind her friendly proposition. He narrowed his eyes at her. "How did you say you found me?"

"I found your ghost portal!" said the ghost happily. "It was so tough to find. But, I mean, you've been in the Ghost Zone—you know how easy it is to get turned around in there. I must've passed Vlad's portal like six times. How was it you described him? Subtle as a hammer?" She laughed.

"You know Vlad?" Danny was dumbstruck. Either this ghost girl was incredibly dense, or she had to believe that he was. She was obviously connected to Vlad, somehow, but Danny couldn't figure out why she had admitted the connection so freely. Was it possible that she really didn't know what her words implied? What was that saying…the friend of my enemy is my enemy? Danny couldn't be sure if that was it, but it sounded appropriate for the situation.

The ghost's face split into a grin. "Are you kidding? He's my favorite character—aside from you of course."

Being trapped in the Fenton Thermos turned out to not quite be the thrilling experience she had hoped it would be.

…

She hurt everywhere. Her heart beat furiously in her chest, her eyes stinging with tears, her breath—she was dead, why did she even _need_ to breath?—hitching in her spectral lungs. She felt _betrayed_. Danny had been her comfort for years; he had been the person she had turned to whenever she was upset or worried or when she felt alone. Sure, she hadn't expected him to welcome her into his life with open arms, but he could've at least talked to her. He could've given her five minutes to explain herself. But what had he done instead? He had dismissed her outright, yelled at her, shoved her away from him. 'Leave me alone', he'd said. The words still reverberated through her head like a hammer against her skull.

Leave me alone.

The girl felt something dim and dark and foreign begin to uncurl far back in her chest, uncoiling like an open hand, inviting. _Leave him alone? _it said, chuckling. _Now what __would be the fun of that?_

…

Ghost Writer flipped the page in the ancient, yellowing novel he held in his hands. He had spent the majority of the day writing, and had recently settled down to indulge in this, his second favorite pastime. The vast possibilities of the written word never ceased to amaze him. He turned the page again, letting the words leap from the page and come to life in the stillness of his library home.

—BAM! BAM! BAM!—

Ghost Writer looked up, puzzled, though certainly understandably, as he wasn't expecting visitors. He set down his novel reluctantly and floated over to the door, opening it a crack and peering out into the eerie gloom of the Ghost Zone.

"Hello! I hope I'm not disturbing you." The ghost at the door smiled pleasantly at him, her arms clasped innocently behind her back.

Ghost Writer's natural politeness caused him to assure her that she wasn't. "How can I help you?" he asked, when what he really wanted to say was "Do I know you?"

The girl's smile widened. "I'm just a fellow lover of literature," she said sweetly. "I thought you might lend me hand with something."

Ghost Writer opened the door a bit wider and ushered the girl inside. "Please, come in," he said. "It's always a pleasure to meet a kindred spirit, if you'll excuse the pun. What can I lend you a hand with?"

"You know Danny Phantom, don't you?" The girl didn't look at him, but instead allowed her gaze to trace the walls and high, vaulted ceiling of the room she found herself in.

Ghost Writer had not expected that name. "I do," he admitted. "I have had some…contact with the boy in the past. Why?"

The girl ignored his question. "Is that your Keyboard?" Her voice was hushed with awe as she approached the object and slipped into the middle of it, admiring the keys with obvious ardor. Ghost Writer cursed inwardly for leaving the thing out.

"It _is _a beauty, isn't it?" He wondered how he could get the girl away from it without injuring her.

"Oh, yes," the girl agreed.

"You never said why you asked me about Danny Phantom," Ghost Writer reminded her, desperate to draw her attention away from his prized possession.

"I need to teach him a lesson." The girl made eye contact with him, now, and her expression was fierce, the ends of her plaited hair curling at the edges in ghostly rage. She was every inch a woman wronged.

"What sort of lesson? What did he do to you?"

The girl made a hard, thoughtful noise that might have been a laugh. "Let's just call it a refresher course on common decency," she said. "He...rejected me," she added quickly.

"Rejected you?" Ghost Writer raised an eyebrow.

The girl nodded, turning back to the Keyboard and holding her hands centimeters above the keys. "I asked him for friendship, for _common decency, _andall I got for my my trouble was, was violence and rudeness. And then he put me in that stupid thermos—I had sort of asked him to, true, but that was earlier, I didn't know how _awful_ it would be. I think I understand why everyone around here seems to hate the thing so much." She stretched, twisting in an attempt to crack her stiff spectral back.

"Well, he is entitled to decided with whom he wishes to be friends," Ghost Writer pointed out carefully.

The girl's head snapped up; there was fire in her eyes. "Not you, too," she said, her voice low.

Much to his surprise, Ghost Writer found that he was frightened of the girl. "I…I'm sorry," he murmured. "But I can't help you teach a lesson to Danny just because he wouldn't be your friend. It isn't warranted. It wouldn't be right."

The girl frowned. "Ghost Writer," she said softly. "I would really rather not have to hurt you, too."

"I beg your pardon?" said Ghost Writer, visibly offended. "Who do you think you are?"

The girl grinned. She reached out, and her fingers danced over the keys of Ghost Writer's most potent weapon:

_"I'm your deepest, darkest nightmare,_

_should you try to be my foe._

_You can call me the Fic Writer—_

_as of now, I run this show."_

_…_

_With the final bell came freedom_

_for most kids as Casper High._

_Sam and Tucker were included;_

_Danny felt like he could cry._

_Now, between old Lancer's essay,_

_other homework—quite a heap—_

_ghost fighting, and household chores, well,_

_when would he find time to sleep?_

_Things got worse not far from Casper._

_Danny groaned. He knew it would,_

_what with the day he'd been having._

_There Ember and Skulker stood._

_Danny tossed away his backpack._

_Oh, these two would so be toast._

_Thank the Lord for misplaced anger._

_Danny cried, "I'm going ghost!"_

_Skulker gestured in surrender-_

_"Whelp, we aren't here to fight._

_We can only do and tell you_

_what the author cares to write."_

_Danny groaned at Skulker's wording._

_"Not the Ghost Writer! Again?!_

_What did I do to him this time?"_

_Ember sighed and muttered, "Men._

_It's not Ghost Writer, you dipstick,_

_you've pissed off someone far worse._

_And she's bent on wreaking havoc_

_in your little universe._

_He sought to teach you a lesson-_

_she's just out to make you pay._

_So you'd better watch your back, kid."_

_And, with that, she flew away._

_Danny turned to question Skulker,_

_and the hunter's face was grim._

_"If I was you, I'd be worried._

_Very worried," he told him._

_"She has all Ghost Writer's powers,_

_but she lacks his moral aim._

_Now we're reduced to messengers,_

_and you're the one to blame."_

_With a scowl, he turned to go, then_

_with a chuckle, Skulker said,_

_"Now, if I were you, Ghost Child,_

_I'd just come with me instead._

_Yes, it's given that I'll skin you,_

_or just keep you in a cage,_

_but that's nothing to what she'll do_

_now that you've provoked her rage."_

_"Yeah, thanks but no thanks," said Danny._

_"I'll keep what you said in mind,_

_but I think I'll take my chances."_

_Skulker sputtered, "Are you blind?!_

_Don't you see what's going on, here?_

_Don't you know what she can do?_

_Here's a warning sign—you're rhyming!_

_Or is that not strange for you?"_

_Danny scowled. "Okay, I get it._

_But I'm still not willing prey._

_So, if you're done with your message,_

_I suggest you go away."_

_"Were I under my own power,"_

_Skulker ground through gritted teeth._

_"I would tie you in a bow and_

_hang you like a Christmas wreath."_

_"Guess I'm lucky that you're not, then,"_

_Danny said without much fear._

_"That's what you think," muttered Skulker._

_"But you'll learn. I'm outta here."_

_With a wave, the hunter vanished,_

_though his warning lingered still._

_And, stripped of his false bravado,_

_Danny felt a sudden chill._

_...  
_

Fic Writer leaned away from the keyboard with a satisfied sigh. She cracked her knuckles and smiled.

"And so it begins."

* * *

Oh, gosh, poetry is so not my strong suit. :P

Questions? Comments? Criticisms? Raves? Drop me a review! I will, in fact, love you forever. :D


	2. Chapter 2 Enter the Sue

**Disclaimer:** If it's canon, it ain't mine.

I apologize for the ridiculously long update wait, but fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on who you are in the situation, I've been sick for the past two weeks. While generally a miserable experience, it has given me time to write! So, here goes chapter 2.

First, to respond to some reviews:

**Youre-not-so-big-**I'm glad I could pleasantly surprise you! Thanks for reading, and I hope you like the new chapter!

**MutantLover09-**Aw, thank you so much! The parts in verse took me an embarrassingly long time to write, so I'm glad you liked them! Vlad hitting on Danny? Well, I don't want to give too much away, but...well, let's be honest, it'll probably happen. XD

**TPcrazy**-I'm so glad you liked it! Favorites? Oh, wow, thank you so much! I hope you continue to like the story so much. :D

**Hawky Phantom-**Thank you so much. Hearing my story compared to the show (in a positive way, of course, XD) is always so nice. :3

**sciencefreak330-**Thank you, and I hope you continue to like the story!

**Garnet Sky-**I'm so glad to hear that. It takes me so long to write the parts in verse-thank you for assuring me that it isn't terrible. :D Also, feel free to point out any faltering in the meter, as I'm sure it will happen, and I always appreciate learning from people who know more than I do about a specific area of writing. :)

**werewolf5-**Thank you so much!

**idislikecreatingpennames-**I'm glad you like it-and I totally agree with the sentiment expressed in your pen-name. XD

**Cee Cee the Critic-**I'm glad you like the story. I can definitely see where you're coming from with your comment about how easily FW got mad at Danny. I notice how easily the ghosts on the show get angry sometimes, and I was trying to make the encounter a little like that, mixed up with the way a fan might react by being told to go away by someone they've practically worshipped for years. It is very possible that that didn't come across as well as I'd have liked it to, though. Thank you for the comments. :)

* * *

...

"Are you quite done?" demanded Ghost Writer, folding his arms. "Because, personally, I have had quite enough of your little game."

The self-proclaimed Fic Writer glanced up from the Keyboard, gave him a bland stare. "What's a good rhyme for 'helpless?'" she asked.

"I've already told you that I'm not going to help you," Ghost Writer reminded her angrily. Fic Writer ignored his comment, turning back to the keys and wiggling her thin fingers over them thoughtfully.

Ghost Writer let out a terse, irritated noise. "What are trying to prove, anyway?"

"I'm not trying to prove anything," replied the girl calmly. "I'm getting revenge, remember?" She didn't even look at him.

Ghost Writer uncrossed his arms and squeezed his hands into fists at his sides.

"_What do you hope to accomplish?_

_Give up now—you'll never win."_

"_Oh, no, I'm just getting started,"_

_said the ghost girl with a grin._

"_If I'm to get back at Danny,_

_there's still much I have to do._

_Why don't we start with the basics?_

_How about…a Mary Sue?"_

A look of unadulterated revulsion crawled onto Ghost Writer's pallid features.

"You…you wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?" Fic Writer tilted her head and smiled evenly at him, her expression like a honey-coated razor blade.

Ghost Writer swallowed hard. "You would," he said, still half in disbelief. He was beginning to recognize something in the grim, unforgiving lines of her face, something that shadowed her every mercurial expression, no matter how gleeful or glad. Ghost Writer felt the very distinct sense that there was a quality of the not altogether stable about her, though he supposed death did have the tendency to make one a bit...bipolar at times.

"Don't look so scared!" she laughed. "I'm not going to sic her on _you._"

"On whom you "sic" her is an entirely irrelevant detail," replied Ghost Writer vehemently. "Mary Sues are an insult to every well-written character ever to grace the pages of a book, and I will _not _allow you to use _my_ Keyboard to create such an abomination. I will _not _stand for it."

"_Geez, _relax,_ dude," sighed Fic Writer._

"I _can't stand to hear you moan._

_Give me grief about the Mary _

_Sue, you get one of your own."_

_With a look of utter horror,_

_Ghost Writer threw up his hands_

_to the one threat that could make_

_him give in to her grim demands._

_"Please don't do that," said Ghost Writer._

"_You…you win. I've had enough._

_I will help you write your story."_

_"Aw, see, now was that so tough?"_

"Stop doing that," ordered Ghost Writer dourly.

"Doing what?" she asked innocently.

Ghost Writer ducked into the small space at the center of his Keyboard, keeping a careful eye on her. It occurred to him that it would be all too easy, now that he was in his rightful place behind the Keyboard, to write this interloper out, could reach across her and end all this right now. Adjusting his glasses, he stooped over her shoulder, examined what she had already written. He crossed his arms.

"It doesn't always have to rhyme," he informed her. "Though you have done a nice job with this."

Fic Writer made a face. "But yours rhymed," she protested.

"Hm?" Ghost Writer turned to face her.

"Your story," replied the girl. "Your Christmas story, the one you wrote Danny into. The whole thing rhymed."

"Yes, well," said Ghost Writer, preening at a compliment that hadn't actually been made. "It was appropriate for the occasion; it was a Christmas story, after all. And…" he stopped, wishing he had been able to cut off the sentence a bit sooner. As it was, Fic Writer was watching him expectantly, a conspiratorial smile flickering around her lips.

"And?" she prompted.

Ghost Writer sighed, glanced to the side. "And…it does…_help_ to make it rhyme," he admitted finally. "Especially when one is writing the sort of story you're planning, now. It offers…more control."

"What do you mean?" Fic Writer's attention was held rapt, her eyes never leaving Ghost Writer's face.

"Well," he explained. "Say you were trying to write Danny into a situation he would normally never willingly enter—"

"All in good time," Fic Writer assured him.

"I don't doubt it," said Ghost Writer honestly. "But say it was something truly against his morals, something he would rather die than actually do. In such a case, it might be necessary to write the situation in rhyme."

The girl seemed to think this over, her mouth twisting to one side in thought. "So…" she said finally. "I can control Danny's life _without_ writing everything in poetry form?"

"Basically," replied Ghost Writer carefully. "Most of the people in his life—his family and friends, especially—are fairly easy to control. If you want to control anyone stronger—Skulker and Ember are goods examples, actually—it's better to write their parts in rhyme, rather than risk insufficient influence over them that might result in their breaking from the story and…seeking retribution."

Fic Writer nodded. "I'll watch out for that." She reached out for the keys, hands pausing a few inches above the luminescent pink surface. Her fingers twitched. Turning to Ghost Writer, she smiled. "Ready to insult every well-written character ever to grace the pages of a book?"

Ghost Writer grimaced. "Do I have a choice?"

"Nope. Now, what rhymes with 'limpid orbs the color of gleaming emeralds?'"

"_Are you sure you want to do this?"_

_Ghost Writer asked desperately._

"_Oh, yes—_very_," said Fic Writer._

"_So just shut up and help me._

_Come, cheer up—we're playing God, here!_

_Let's create the perfect girl;_

_eyes of ever-changing color,_

_hair a wave of golden curl._

_And she's pretty and she's perfect,_

_and her name is Japanese,_

_and of course she's also half ghost—_

_What the hell? She's Vlad's new niece!_

_Every boy who sees her loves her,_

_and the girls all want her dead;_

_I will call her Mary Spirit—_

_No! Bella Specter, instead."_

"Bella Specter?" Ghost Writer wrinkled his nose. "What kind of name is that?"

"It's a Mary Sue name," replied Fic Writer defensively. "What do you expect? And anyway, it's just what she goes by while she's in ghost mode. Her real name has to be a lot longer. Like…Isabella Aiko Destiny Morningstar Masters-Spencer."

"No one's going to believe that," scoffed Ghost Writer.

"Sure they are," she snapped. "Just give me some time to write it, okay? Authors get away with Mary Sues all the time. You just have to twist the other characters around a bit."

Ghost Writer hmm'd thoughtfully. "Well, if you expect to get Danny to buy this pitiful excuse for a character, you really will need to write the whole thing in verse."

The slow, sharp smile that slithered onto Fic Writer's mouth was incredibly unsetting. "Now, now, what fun would that be?" she said. She laughed softly. "You don't really think I'd have Danny any less then perfectly conscious of what's happening to him, do you? I want him to know that someone's messing with him—that _I'm _messing with him. I want Danny to be one-hundred percent sane while I make the world go mad around him."

…

There was a tremor in the air in Amity Park, something comparable to the static in the air before a particularly violent thunderstorm. Something important was lurking just beyond the bend of the horizon; or something big, at least.

Danny woke with a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was like he had swallowed a handful of aggressive insects, a sensation somewhere on the edge between nerves and excitement. He spent a good deal of time trying to remember if the day was significant for a reason that had slipped his mind before getting dressed and heading downstairs for breakfast.

…

Something was wrong. Danny could sense it the moment he crossed the threshold of Casper High—it was the niggling, unsettling, unrelenting sensation that something that should not have been different was, and it inspired in Danny something bordering on paranoia. On the walk to his first class, he glanced over his shoulder several times, half-expecting to spot a ghost darting through a wall. No ghost materialized, but the spooky feeling persisted. Experimentally, Danny forced out a puff of breath, just to see if it would turn into mist. Nothing. So maybe there was no ghost, but _something…_something was definitely wrong. He just couldn't quite put his finger on it, yet.

Down the hallway, Tucker was currently absorbed by something in his locker. When he saw Danny, his face lit up.

"_Morning, Danny!" shouted Tucker_

"_Hey—wait up for me, okay?_

_I just need to find my math book..._

_Did you finish that essay?"_

Danny winced. "I'm assuming you're talking about that ridiculous essay on Romeo and Juliet that Lancer assigned me?"

"_That's the one," Tucker responded._

"_Man, for _Lancer_, that was cruel._

_By the way, did you hear that there's_

_a hot new girl at our school?"_

A bit confused by this sudden shift in subject, Danny shrugged and adjusted his backpack strap. "No. I just got here. You're the first person I've seen. Come to think of it, the hallways are pretty deserted…am I late?"

Tucker completely ignored his question.

"_You should see her," Tucker told him._

"_I swear, I think I'm in love._

_She's an angel, man, an _angel

_sent to Earth from up above."_

"That's…nice, I guess," replied Danny, raising an eyebrow. "Say, Tuck…have you been _rhyming_?" The concern that had been bothering Danny all morning began to press in on him, mingling with the worry that had been sitting in his stomach since his strange conversation with Skulker and Ember the day before.

_Tucker looked at Danny strangely._

"_Have I?" he asked airily._

"_Hadn't noticed—guess that new girl_

_brings out the poet in me."_

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," sighed Danny. "The new girl's cute." He was sure that he hadn't just imagined Tucker's slip into rhyme, but it was possible that it had simply been a coincidence. Still, something about the situation made him feel uncomfortable. 'Maybe I'm just being paranoid,' he thought to himself.

…

Fic Writer grinned, leaning into the rosy glow that the keyboard gave off. "I think Danny knows something's up," she noted happily.

Ghost Writer adjusted his glasses and glanced over at her in pointed disinterest. "Are you still writing it in verse?"

"M-hmm," she replied, leaning closer to the screen. "How's my meter doing?"

Ghost Writer leaned over Fic Writer's shoulder and read her newest batch of text. "It's passable," he replied loftily.

Fic Writer turned to make a face at him. "There's no need to be patronizing," she informed him. "You said you'd help, remember?"

"After some rather unfair coercion on your part, if I'm recalling correctly," said Ghost Writer. "And are you in need of my specific assistance at the moment?"

Fic Writer glared at him for a moment before returning her attention to the keyboard. "It would help if you'd stop being such a pain in the butt," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

…

Danny adjusted his backpack and entered the combination on his locker, casting puzzled, uneasy glances at Tucker as he did. His friend hadn't stopped talking about the mysterious "new girl" since he'd first mentioned her, and Danny was getting irritated. Sure, Tucker could be a little girl-crazy at times, but he wasn't girl _obsessed_, and this was getting ridiculous. This wasn't like him.

_Tucker leaned against the lockers_

_with a hand over his heart._

"_Danny, I have seen a wonder_

_and my life's been torn apart._

_Man, her eyes are like an ocean;_

_huge and clear and blue and bright,_

_like two perfect, gleaming sapphires,_

_two stars, dazzling in the night._

_When she smiles, I swear the world stops._

_When she laughs, it starts again._

_She's a goddess, and her beauty_

_isn't meant for mortal men."_

Okay, things were getting a little too strange. Tucker was definitely rhyming, now, and, considering the boy's English grades, he wasn't coming up with this peculiar poetry on his own. Danny felt panic begin to claw at his stomach. He edged away from his friend, debating about what action the situation called for.

"You know, Tuck," started Danny, slamming his locker shut and backing away. "As much as I'd love to stand here all day and listen to you describe this "goddess" of yours, I really think we should be getting to class." If he could get to class, it would give him some time to sit down and think things through. He took another step back—straight into something very solid and stationary. Danny glanced up into a familiar, if not exactly welcome, face.

"_Hey, watch where you're going, Fen-toad."_

_Dash pushed Danny with a leer._

"_Unless you want a knuckle sandwich,_

_you'd better get out of here."_

'Great, this is just what I need right now,' thought Danny distractedly. "Listen, Dash, I don't want any trouble."

"_It's too late for that, Fenton-i._

_Now it's 'Punch the Lamewad' time._

_First you, then your little geek friend."_

Danny winced. "Dash, please don't rhyme." After a pause, Danny clapped both hands over his mouth. That was _it; _now _he_ was rhyming. Someone was definitely messing with him, and he knew who it was. Danny remembered the message Skulker and Ember had delivered to him, warning him about the mysterious, ruthless new ghost who, for some reason Danny couldn't figure out, apparently had some sort of grudge against him. And they'd mentioned that the ghost had similar abilities to Ghost Writer, which would explain the fact that everyone seemed to be stuck in a poem. So far, though, Danny had seen no evidence of what exactly this ghost planned to do to him—aside from apparently having Dash shove him into his own locker.

…

Fic Writer let out a howl of laughter. "Did you see that?" she cried, grinning at Ghost Writer and indicating the screen in front of her excitedly. He aimed a glance where Fic Writer gestured.

"It would appear," she noted. "That Danny has done my job for me." She turned back to the screen, laughing and shaking her head in delighted disbelief. "Look at that—he even fit the meter!"

Ghost Writer, for his part, seemed to be suppressing a smile. "That is…uncanny," he admitted.

…

Danny sighed, leaning his forehead against the cool, metal interior of his locker. This morning really couldn't get any worse. Outside, he heard Dash laughing and the sound of another locker slamming shut. Poor Tucker. He shifted slightly to alleviate the pain of a textbook poking into his shoulder blade. Sam would probably be along soon enough to let him out. She usually headed straight for the lockers if Danny or Tucker didn't show up for class.

"Hey, what are you doing?!" A voice sounded in the hallway outside, but it was not one that Danny recognized. It was sweet and clear, but there was something strange about it; it sounded almost false, as if someone had re-programmed Microsoft Sam to imitate a teenage girl. Danny cringed back into his locker, away from the voice, as if flinching away from a blow or a nasty smell.

"Relax, sweetheart, we're just having a little fun." That…well, it sounded like Dash, but Danny almost didn't believe it was him. Sweetheart? Who was he talking to?

"Fun? You think shoving people into lockers just because you're bigger and you can is fun? That's despicable."

As Danny puzzled over the identity behind the voice, the door to his locker was yanked open, revealing a girl he didn't recognize. Her mouth was set in an irritated scowl, and her eyes were blazing with anger. For a moment, Danny was breathless—she was _beautiful._ Suddenly, like a man stepping into the sun after being held prisoner in the dark for years, he felt the universe shift, harmonize. He understood everything. This was obviously the girl Tucker had been talking about—her hair, artfully braided, hung over her shoulder like a rope spun from golden silk; her eyes, narrowed and angry, were nonetheless brilliant, pure and painfully blue. The annoyance that wrinkled her forehead did little to distort the beauty of her features: the clear, ivory skin, the perfect pink mouth, the light smattering of freckles across her small, upturned nose. When she locked eyes with Danny, he felt his heart speed up, and a blush tore across his face.

And then, just as suddenly as it had come, the moment was over, leaving Danny feeling dizzy and slightly violated. He was looking at a girl, and while she was cute, she certainly wasn't anything to trip over. And she sort of gave Danny the creeps. He couldn't explain it, but something about her presence reminded him of the eerie feeling he'd had that morning.

"Are you okay?" She extended a hand to help Danny out onto the floor. He accepted it hesitantly. Her skin was soft, but cold, and a little powdery, like touching a latex glove.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks," he replied distractedly.

She smiled brilliantly at him, and Danny got the impression that he ought to be stunned.

"Do I know you?" he asked finally.

The smile grew wider. "Not unless we've met in a past life," replied the girl cheerfully. "I just transferred here from Wisconsin. My name is Isabella Aiko Destiny Morningstar Masters-Spencer. You can call me Bella. What's yours?"

"Uh, Danny," said Danny, awkwardly returning Bella's handshake, unsure whether he would ever be able to get used to the strange texture of her skin. Then, because she had provided him with at about twelve names and he felt obligated to give her at least two, he added, "Danny Fenton."

Bella's eyes grew very round, and her mouth dropped open slightly. "Danny Fenton?" she repeated, as if his name were some sort of secret she couldn't believe he knew. "You wouldn't happen to be the son of Jack and Maddie Fenton, would you?"

She knew who his parents were? How did she know who his parents were? Danny hesitated. "Um, yeah. I guess I am."

"What a small world!" Bella cried excitedly. "My uncle went to school with them. University of Wisconsin, Madison, right? Class of '85?"

"I think so," said Danny cautiously. A feeling of dread had begun to flicker in his stomach. "You said you moved here from Wisconsin?"

"That's right," asserted Bella. "Omen, Wisconsin. It's a tiny little place just outside of Madison."

"Right. And your uncle—"

"My mom's brother," clarified Bella obligingly. "You might've heard of him. I don't know how well-known he is here, but he's like a celebrity back home in Wisconsin. He owns this huge company."

Danny felt his stomach drop into his lower intestine. There was no way. This girl couldn't be related to Vlad. He took a breath to steady himself.

"Your uncle…wouldn't happened to be named Vlad Masters, would he?" he asked, his voice on the border between hysterical and terrified. He hoped with everything in him that Bella would blink, raise an eyebrow, and ask "who?". Instead, she grinned.

"You have heard of him! Oh, wait 'til I tell him! Uncle Vlad will be so excited to hear that I've met you. He talks about you all the time. I hear he and your mom were super close in college."

"He wishes," sneered Danny.

"What was that?" The unfailing cheerfulness in Bella's voice was beginning to get irritating. She didn't seem to be faking it, but it still seemed somehow artificial, a smile painted on the face of a mannequin. Between that and the horrifying discovery that she was _Vlad's niece, _Danny couldn't control the urge to get away from her.

"Nothing," he replied quickly. "Hey, listen, I should probably, you know, get to class." He edged away from her slowly.

If Bella noticed Danny's eagerness to get away from her, she made no indication of it. "Great idea! I don't want to be late on my first day. I'll walk with you."

'Great,' thought Danny. 'She's in my class. This is just what I need right now.'

Apparently, Tucker had somehow gotten out of his locker on his own, as he was sitting next to Sam when Danny reached his English class. His friends waved him over, and Danny, grateful for the familiar faces, went over to them and dropped into a chair next to Sam.

"You will not _believe_ what I just learned," he whispered, leaning close to her.

Sam smirked. "What's with the serious face, Danny? You're acting like you just found out you're half-ghost or something."

"Haha, very funny," said Danny dryly. "It's about the new girl. She—"

Danny was interrupted by Mr. Lancer, who cleared his throat loudly.

"Now, class," the teacher announced. "I want to introduce you all to out new student. She just moved here from Wisconsin. Why don't you go ahead and introduce yourself?" He smiled amiably at Bella, who turned to wave shyly at the assembled students.

"Hey, everyone," she said. "I'm Bella Masters-Spencer. It's nice to meet all of you."

Danny frowned. The last time they'd had a transfer student, the kid had just sort of appeared in the class. He didn't remember Mr. Lancer introducing him. Weird.

Dash, seated a few rows in front of Danny, leaned over his desk. "It's nice to meet you, too," he crooned smoothly. "Why don't you come sit next to me? I've got a free seat." He reached out to shove the bespectacled boy seated next to him out of his chair.

Bella walked past him, nose in the air. "I don't talk to bullies," she told him coldly. She looked around for an empty seat, meeting Danny's eyes momentarily with a hopeful smile. But, much to his relief, there were no seats anywhere near him, so she eventually settled down next to Paulina, who regarded the new girl with judgmental eyes.

"Hey, cool sweater," she said finally. "Where'd you get it?"

Bella smiled. "My uncle bought it for me. It's a one-of-a-kind Marc Jacobs design."

Paulina's mouth dropped open. "That must have been expensive."

Bella shrugged nonchalantly. "I guess. But my uncle's a billionaire."

"I'm Paulina." The most popular girl at Casper High extended a hand to Bella. "I think we're going to be good friends."

…

Fic Writer let out an irritated puff of air. When that garnered no response from Ghost Writer, she let out another, louder one. He sighed.

"Is something wrong?" he asked resignedly.

"I don't know what I want to happen next," she replied. "C'mere and read what I've got."

"Again?" asked Ghost Writer. "How much have you written in the last ten minutes?"

"Loads," said Fic Writer.

Nervously, Ghost Writer leaned over and read over the text on the screen in front of her. "No more verse, I see. I'm not even sure I'd be able to see your influence in the situation if it weren't for your, ah, colorful contribution."

"The Mary Sue? That's the point, GW," said Fic Writer brightly.

"I beg your pardon?"

…

For the next few classes, Bella gravitated towards Paulina, taking the place of anyone who had previously earned the place of honor to her right. They seemed to get along well, giggling and passing notes and doodling in one another's notebooks. Danny was relieved, if only because it meant that he didn't have to deal with Bella for the rest of the day. However, he wasn't able to avoid her for long.

By the time lunch came around, Danny still hadn't been able to tell his friends what he had discovered about Bella. Sam raised an eyebrow at him from across their table.

"So, what's this big secret you've been dying to tell us about the new girl?" she asked.

"Did she say anything about me?" inquired Tucker excitedly.

Danny suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "No. I'm being serious, here."

"So am I," replied Tucker defensively.

Danny sighed. "Just listen to me, okay? Haven't you noticed anything suspicious about her?"

"Not unless you count being incredibly beautiful suspicious," piped Tucker.

Sam groaned. "Or incredibly annoying. Did you hear her and Paulina giggling during history? I thought I was gonna puke."

Danny groaned. "No. Listen—she moved here from Wisconsin, her last name is _Masters_-Spencer, she brags about having a billionaire uncle…Nothing?"

Sam seemed to catch on to what Danny was suggesting. "Wait, you don't think she's—"

"I don't think," said Danny. "I know. She told me when I talked to her this morning."

"Dude, you talked to her?" said Tucker enviously.

Danny opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, someone plunked a tray down on the table next to Sam.

"Mind if I sit with you guys?" Bella asked brightly.

Sam glared at her. "Shouldn't you be sitting with your best friend, Paulina?"

Bella sensed the hostility in Sam's words. "If you don't want me here, I can leave," she offered.

"Don't be ridiculous!" cried Tucker. "Of course we want you around! Have a seat. My name is Tucker Foley." He leaned across the table, extending a hand to Bella, who shook it with a laugh.

"Nice to meet you, Tucker," she said.

…

"You're not making her extreme enough." Ghost Writer tapped the screen.

Fic Writer scowled. "What do you mean I'm not making her extreme enough? She's a half-ghost who's related to Vlad, she moved from Wisconsin—"

"Yes, yes," said Ghost Writer irritably. "She looks good on paper, but if you continue like this, Danny will just suspect that Vlad is up to something. He might not even suspect that someone else is involved."

Fic Writer seemed to consider this for a moment. "All right, fair point. What do you suggest?"

"You have to…manipulate the environment more," he replied, gesturing vaguely. "You've told me everyone loves her, but so far, I've seen that Tucker has a crush on her, Dash is hitting on her, and Paulina wants to be her friend because she has rich relatives. Not perfect, perhaps, but possible. Sam is annoyed by her, but, again, that's a rather likely situation. You have to turn the volume up. Show me that _everyone _loves her, even when it doesn't make any sense for them to do so. Make Sam _hate _her beyond reason. Give them lines of dialogue so out of character that they read awkwardly. You could even throw some more verse in there, just for the reaction." He shrugged. "But that's just my opinion."

Fic Writer smiled, reaching out to pinch his cheek fondly. "Aw, looked who turned out to be helpful, even when they claimed to want no part in this."

"I don't want any part in this," snapped Ghost Writer, batting her hand away. "But I suppose I did offer you my assistance, and I hate to see a story, however suspect, ah, half-assed."

"A noble sentiment," concurred Fic Writer.

Ghost Writer sighed. "I'll never be able to look at myself in the mirror after this."

"Don't start beating yourself up, yet," Fic Writer consoled him. "What's happened so far is nothing—I'm just getting warmed up."

* * *

Introducing my Mary-Sue! Named after the Mariest-Sue I know.

So, darlings, you've got to let me know-should I stay or should I go? Drop me a comment with questions, complaints, concrit. All is welcome and appreciated. :3


	3. Chapter 3 Research

I went on a bit of a fic-bender this weekend, and got absolutely no homework done as a result. Oops...

Anyway! Here's chapter 3. Hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** If you've seen it in the show, then it doesn't belong to me. :D

**Hawky Phantom-**It wasn't anything too serious-just a touch of bronchitis. It got me out of school for a bit, though, which was nice. :) Glad you like it! Thanks for the review-hope you like the new chapter.

**Pterodactyl-**Haha, I can definitely relate to having parents that are unaware of the exact extent of my participation in certain fandoms. XD Hopefully, it's a universal fan-experience that most people can relate to. I read the rec-_very_ funny stuff. Thank you for the recommendation, and the review. I appreciate it. Hopefully, she's a bit more Mary-Sue-ish in this chapter. Feel free to make suggestions if you don't think she is. :)

**Granite Ghost-**Aw, I love love! :D Agh, you're right. I guess I got too distracted trying to get to the heart of the story and made the premise a bit lacking. I'll definitely work on that-thank you for bringing it to my attention! :D I appreciate concrit more than I can say. If you have any more, send it my way! Thank you for reviewing-I hope you enjoy this chapter! And I'm glad you like my MS's name. I pay tribute when I can-very few have been able to get away with such an obvious Mary Sue. It's almost an accomplishment. XD

**reader111222-**Thank you! :)

**Mrs. Pokeylope-**Aw, thank you so much for the review! I'm glad you liked it.

**too lazy to sign in-**(I'm guessing this isn't you actual pen-name? Haha) Thanks for the review. I hope you like this chapter. :)

**werewolf5- **I'm so glad you like it! Thank you so much for the review. As for your questions-I don't want to give too much away, but Bella and Danny have a very serious conversation in this chapter (hinthint, haha). As for Fic Writer...well, she's probably going to lead Danny along for a little while longer and let him come to some of his own conclusions. She's having too much fun to ruin it just yet. :)

* * *

...

Fic Writer pushed herself away from the keyboard, a thoughtful frown creasing her forehead and thinning her mouth. It was a vast improvement, thought Ghost Writer, to the sharp, evil grin that had been plastered onto her face for the last few hours—a grin that didn't exactly inspire confidence in the girl's mental stability. Of course, the self-satisfied little chuckles she continually emitted didn't help, either.

"What now?" he asked her, almost praying that she'd reply that she'd grown bored of her twisted game of revenge. He didn't expect her to, but one could always hope.

"Not sure." Fic Writer hovered lazily in the air, stretching her new, ghostly muscles. She flipped herself over, staring at Ghost Writer with near disinterest. It was a slightly vacant look, as if the place where her eyes had fixed themselves was pure happenstance.

Ghost Writer waved a hand in front of her face, but there was no response. "What exactly are you doing?" he queried.

She blinked, looked up at him. "Hm?"

"What are you doing?" repeated Ghost Writer.

"Increasing the blood flow to my brain," replied Fic Writer. "I used to do this back at home whenever I had writer's block, only then I hung over the side of my bed, since I obviously couldn't do this. It helps me think."

Ghost Writer raised his eyebrows. "And…for how long did you used to do this?"

"Just, like, half an hour." Fic Writer's shrug would have been comical at her awkward angle, had Ghost Writer not been mildly horrified by the prospect the girl was putting before him. Given, he didn't have the clearest memories of being alive, but he was almost positive that having vast quantities of blood rushing to his head had never been a particularly pleasant experience.

Fic Writer continued to stare into space, her pale eyes as blank and glazed as the monitor she had previously been staring at with such fierce animation. Her mouth hung open slightly, and she seemed to forget that she needed occasionally to blink, making her seem, ironically, as though all the life had gone out of her. Ghost Writer could see the moment the idea struck her—the light came back into her face all at once, like someone had flicked a switch in her skull. Her familiar, unnerving grin returned to its usual place, a little creepier—apparently that _was_ possible—for the eerie, jack-o'lantern-like quality that her current position lent it.

"Say," she uttered conspiratorially. "Do you get internet access on this thing?" She jerked a thumb in the direction of the keyboard.

"And why would you need internet access, pray tell?" Ghost Writer was beginning to regret saying anything about the cruel tale Fic Writer was concocting.

Fic Writer swiveled mid-air, dropping down to her feet. Ghost Writer realized that he had been wrong; her grin was just as frightening right-side-up. The ghost girl pushed aside a lock of hair that had fallen into her face.

"I need to do some research," she informed him gleefully. "Is that a yes?"

…

Bella settled herself at the table with an appreciative smile at Tucker, while apparently pretending not to notice that Sam was very pointedly not looking at her. Danny's friend was, instead, looking straight at him, with an expression that said "I cannot believe she thinks she can sit with us after paling around with Paulina all day." Danny shrugged and raised his eyebrows at her, willing the strong-willed girl to let it go. Sam let out an irritated breath and stabbed at her salad so aggressively that one of the tines of her plastic fork snapped off.

Danny heard the snap as though in a vacuum—all the other sounds in the noisy cafeteria seemed to fade, until the laughter, talking, and other, often unpleasant, food-related noises were no more than a distant hum of music. The snap remained the only clear noise, sharp as a breaking bone, and Danny realized that it wasn't Sam's fork at all. It was something else, something much bigger and more important than a plastic utensil that had been cracked, and Danny knew it with the same innate certainty that had set him on edge earlier that morning. When the world returned to its normal volume, when the colors in the room regained their usual hue, everything looked the same, but something was not. Danny felt suddenly surrounded by strangers, though the faces around him were as familiar as his own—at least, Sam and Tucker's faces were. For some reason, though, looking at his friends now made him nervous, filling him with the same urge to flee that Bella had upon their first meeting.

'You're being paranoid, Danny,' he told himself irritably. 'You're probably just tired, or maybe all this ghost-hunting is finally going to your brain.' He sighed and slid his tray away from him. Suddenly, he wasn't all that hungry.

…

"Do you have a pen?" Fic Writer didn't take her eyes off the screen in front of her, simply holding out a hand for the requested item as she rifled through her pockets for a scrap of paper. She finally found a piece of notebook paper, folded into quarters, which she smoothed out carefully. Ghost Writer, allowing his curiosity to overrule his better judgment, fetched a quill from his desk and pressed into the girls' hand.

"Thanks, GW," she said simply, still not looking at him. Alternating glances between the monitor and the paper, she scribbled down several hasty notes, occasionally laughing, grinning, and groaning at what she was reading. Ghost Writer adjusted his glasses, peering down at the paper. The handwriting that snaked across it was cramped and illegible, so his eyes went to the website that was holding Fic Writer's attention so effectively. It took him a moment to register the words that hung smugly at the top of the webpage, leering at him like a mugger in a dark alley. When he finally did, Ghost Writer winced away from the screen as though it had bitten him. Noticing this, Fic Writer laughed.

"Don't be so scared, GW, it's a harmless little website, it's not gonna bite you."

Ghost Writer could not have disagreed more. This was not a 'harmless little website'. It was evil's web address. It was where words went to die. It was a swirling pit of once-familiar characters now mangled beyond recognition; a dangerous, desolate wasteland littered with yawning plot holes and the slaughtered remains of grammar; a vast expanse of filth and sewage so foul that it didn't even merit digging through the filth for the occasional gem beneath the poisonous surface. It was a den of villains without consciences, of rabid, unrepentant—Ghost Writer shuddered—_fangirls_.

Ghost Writer didn't realize that he had voiced his opinion out loud until Fic Writer reacted, throwing back her head in a bout of breathless laughter that left her hiccuping, tears pricking her eyes.

"It's fanfiction-dot-net," she managed to wheeze finally. "Not the Spanish Inquisition."

"Same thing," muttered Ghost Writer, scowling to hide his embarrassment at the failure of his internal monologue.

Fic Writer studied his face for a minute, then laughed again. "Aw, does this mean I don't get to be the first person to introduce you to slash fic?"

Ghost Writer let out a noise not unlike a growl.

…

"Danny, are you okay?" Bella waved a hand in front of the teen's face. "You're sort of zoning out."

"Leave him alone," snapped Sam, crossing her arms and sitting up slightly as if to make herself appear larger.

Tucker scowled. "Hey, Sam, why don't _you_ leave _Bella_ alone? She didn't do anything to you."

"No, it's alright, Tucker." Bella smiled sadly. "I can tell when I'm not wanted." She stood, picking up her tray. "I hope you feel better, Danny," she said kindly, her voice quavering slightly with the threat of tears. Then, after a pause, she turned and walked across the cafeteria to the table where Dash, Paulina, Kwan, Star, and the rest of Casper High's popular crowd beckoned her eagerly to join them. After a brief scuffle during which Dash and Kwan fought over who Bella would sit next to, she provided a compromise by perching delicately between the two of them. The football players shot daggers at one another over her head while Bella leaned forward to listen to a story Paulina was telling animatedly.

Tucker ground his teeth, addressing Sam angrily. "Way to go, Sam. You just lost me my chance with Bella!"

"Like you ever had a chance," snorted Sam dryly. "And anyway, why do you care so much? She's a total poser."

Tucker let out an irritated noise. "You know what, Sam? I'm getting so sick of you and your 'look at me, I'm dark and different and no one understands me' act. Just because Bella doesn't wear combat boots and bite the heads off bats doesn't mean that she's a poser."

"Hey," said Sam. "I do _not _bite the heads off bats. You know I'm a vegetarian."

"You're a _pain,_" Tucker informed her. "You think you're so high and mighty just because you have principles and eat tofu. But you're no better than Paulina."

Sam gasped. "Take that back," she commanded, her voice low.

"Get over yourself," spat Tucker.

Sam, mouth open in mute anger, turned to Danny. "Danny, do you hear him?"

"Don't bring Danny into this," said Tucker. "He didn't do anything."

"Neither did I!" exclaimed Sam. "Just because you go all love-sick over _every girl_ you meet—"

"I do not!" cried Tucker.

Sam's mouth pulled sharply sideways. "Oh yeah? Name one girl you haven't tried to date."

"You," replied Tucker without hesitation. " I only go for cute girls."

"That's it." Sam stood sharply, slamming her hands down on the table so hard that students a few tables away turned to see what the commotion was. "I'm done listening to you. If you think a stupid girl is worth ruining our friendship, then I don't want anything more to do with you." She turned a heated glower at Danny. "And if you're just going to sit there and let him insult me, then you're no better than he is."

Shoving her tray across the table, Sam stomped out of the cafeteria, a flurry of whispers and glances rising in her wake.

"Good riddance," grumbled Tucker. "Hey, Danny, can you believe what she—oh, man, are you okay?"

Tucker had been the intended target of Sam's lunch-tray-missile, but it was Danny who now had soy milk, salad dressing and tomato pulp smeared across his shirt, and what he suspected was the beginning of a bruise blossoming under his skin. Sam was stronger than she looked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Danny picked a piece of lettuce from his pants and dropped it onto the table with a frown. "Did I miss something? Since when have you and Sam hated each other?"

Tucker didn't answer his friend; he didn't even hear him. As soon as she saw that Sam had left, Bella was back at their table, and Tucker's full concentration was on her, rather than on his produce-covered friend.

"I just saw what happened," she said, her voice brimming with sympathetic concern. "What's wrong with your friend?"

Tucker grinned at Bella, looking like he was fighting the urge to climb over the table to get to her. "Oh, just ignore her. Sam's just jealous because she's not as beautiful as you are."

A blush reddened Bella's pale face. "I…thank you," she replied shyly, glancing at her feet with a self-conscious smile.

Danny felt like screaming. What was going on? He had seen Sam and Tucker argue, before—heck, he'd had his share of arguments with both of them—but they had never let something as trivial as a girl get between them. They had been friends for years; that friendship had to matter more to them than some random transfer student who also just oh-so happened to be related to Danny's _arch-nemesis_. Was this some whacked-out plot of Vlad's to split up Danny from his friends so that Vlad could kidnap Sam and Tucker to use as hostages or bait? Danny's mind went back to the warning he had received from Skulker and Ember, and the way that Tucker had been rhyming earlier. Could this be a different ghost at work? Was Bella the enemy that Danny hadn't realized he had made, bent on destroying his life for a transgression he couldn't remember? He doubted the pain in his stomach had anything to do with the impact of Sam's tray.

"Danny?" Bella's voice broke into his reverie. Danny turned to study her, and, as his eyes met hers, he felt something like static electricity edge across his skin, raising the hairs on his arms and up the back of his neck. It felt like he had stuck a fork into a very weak electric socket, a borderline painful sensation.

"_Hey, are you alright?" asked Bella._

"_You keep," she waved. "zoning out._

_I hope you don't have a fever,"_

_she said with a worried pout._

_She reached out to touch her fingers_

_to his forehead to make sure,_

_her eyebrows drawn, eyes glimmering—_

_a dark, concerned azure._

"I'm fine," Danny leaned away from her touch, brushing the remains of Sam's lunch from his clothes as he stood. "I think maybe I just need to lie down for a while."

"I can walk you to the nurse's office," offered Bella helpfully.

"No!" said Danny. At the surprised look on Bella and Tucker's faces, he added, more calmly, "I mean, no, don't worry about me. I'll be okay. You just…stay here." He gestured for Bella to sit down. "Eat lunch or something."

Bella did not seem convinced. "I'd really feel better if I came with you," she replied, folding her arms. "And I already ate."

'Of course you did,' thought Danny with a groan.

Bella's eyes went wide. "Are you in pain?" she asked, rushing to Danny's side.

Danny looked at her, grimacing. "Something like that," he replied.

"You know, Bella," Tucker jumped in. "Danny can usually tell when he needs help. If he says he's okay, I'd trust him."

Danny gave his friend a grateful smile, but Tucker wasn't looking at him.

_Tucker smiled up at Bella,_

_willing her to stay with him,_

'_stead of pandering to Danny_

_over every little whim._

Bella barely glanced at Tucker. Her thoughtful frown wavered into something resembling embarrassment as she admitted, "Well…there _is_ something else." She gave Danny a shaky smile "I guess my intentions aren't entirely noble. I'd really like to talk to you alone, Danny. I hope you don't mind, Tuck," she added hurriedly.

Tucker shook his head—a sharp, choppy motion—and forced a painful-looking smile onto his face. There was something predatory about the expression. "Why would I mind?" he asked.

Bella's face broke into a gleeful smile. "Thanks, Tuck." She directed the smile at Danny, who noticed Tucker glaring at him over her shoulder with an expression that told Danny that, were it in Tucker's power, he would have burst into flames three minutes ago.

This was getting ridiculous. But, unable to come up with a reason that he couldn't talk to Bella without resorting to the truth—that she gave him the creeps, was related to the one thing one the planet he hated more than homework and lima beans, and that he blamed her for the fact that he was suddenly afraid of the concept of Tucker having access to matches—Danny sighed and gestured for Bella to lead him out of the cafeteria.

"Tucker seemed angry," noted Bella astutely the moment they stepped into the hallway.

"Hm," replied Danny.

Bella stopped walking and looked at Danny with a hurt expression. "Danny, you aren't angry, too, are you? Did I do something wrong?" She looked to be on the verge of tears, which pushed all traces of anger from Danny's mind, if only because it was immediately replaced with surprise and a mild sense of horror.

"No!" he said reflexively. "You didn't do anything wrong. I swear."

Bella brightened. "And you're not mad at me?"

"No, I'm not mad," lied Danny through his teeth.

"Good," said Bella, suddenly serious. "Because I have something very important to tell you Danny—it's a secret I've been carrying around for most of my life, and I feel like you're the only I can trust with it."

Danny raised an eyebrow at her. "You've known me for less than a day," he reminded her, the feeling that this was a trick growing on him more and more with every passing second.

"I know that," Bella assured him. "But I know you'll understand my secret, Danny. You and I, we're more alike than you might think."

Danny regarded her warily. "How d'you figure?"

"I…" Bella paused, as if unsure how to continue. She glanced sideways nervously, her lower lip between her teeth, an anguished crease between her brows. "Maybe I'm going about this the wrong way. Here, hopefully this will explain it."

_She pursed her perfect, rosebud lips,_

_and carefully exhaled._

_Out from her mouth rose mint-green mist,_

_and Danny Fenton paled._

Bella watched Danny imploringly. He, in turn, stared back at her, jaw slack. "I…what just happened?" he demanded.

Reaching out to touch Danny's sleeve, Bella whispered, "It's my ghost sense, Danny. I'm half-ghost. And I know you are, too."

…

"_Look at his __face__!_" Fic Writer roared with laughter, gripping her sides and sucking in irregular, wheezing gulps of air as Ghost Writer hid his smile behind a hand.

…

"I don't know what you're talking about," repeated Danny emphatically, pushing Bella's hands away from him. "I don't even believe in ghosts."

"That isn't true," insisted Bella. "Danny, you don't need to hide your secret from me—I understand! I know all about your parents and their ghost hunting, I know about the accident with the Ghost Portal. I know everything." She was trying to get him to meet her eyes, her expression earnest and desperate.

Danny snorted. "Somehow I doubt that," he told her bitterly.

"Danny, please." Bella was begging now, the threat of tears thick in her voice. "I need your help, here."

If only to stop her from crying, Danny faced Bella, arms crossed, making no attempt to hide the distrust on his face. "What do you mean, you need my help?"

"It's about my uncle," said Bella.

Danny's interest was peaked, if only momentarily. She needed his help because of Vlad? But that didn't make any sense. The only way she could've known about Danny being half-ghost in the first place was if Vlad had told her; he was the only other person who knew, aside from Jazz and Sam and Tucker, and _they_ certainly hadn't told her. And there was no way that lonely old loser would've revealed Danny's secret to Bella if he'd had even the slightest suspicion that she'd run off and tattle on him to the boy. He was all sorts of crazy, but he wasn't _stupid._ And besides, Danny couldn't think of a single reason _why_ Vlad would've told her. What sort of conversation could the two have been having in which such a fact would have been relevant? 'Oh, hello, niece, lovely day isn't it by the way did you know that I went to college with these two people and now their son is part ghost?'

As if she could sense Danny's disbelief, Bella sighed. "You don't believe me," she said softly. "I guess I understand. I'd be suspicious of me, too. Listen, if you just let me explain, I promise things will be clearer. Is there somewhere more private we could talk?"

For some reason, Danny was filled with an odd sense of deja-vu. He didn't trust Bella, and he didn't particularly like her. Her relation to Vlad and, now, her claims to be half-ghost, put together with the strange way that Sam and Tucker were acting, made him feel like he was trapped in an episode of a poorly-written teen drama. More than anything, he just wanted to get away from her long enough to sort the situation out in his head, maybe talk it over with Jazz. He desperately needed a second opinion on this girl. Spending too much time with her was starting to make him feel crazy.

"I don't think we can get very private at school," he replied hastily. "And, anyway, lunch'll be over, soon. We'll have to go back to class."

Bella nodded. "You're probably right. We'll have to meet after school. I'll come by your house around four. We can talk then."

"Sure, whatever," groaned Danny, not mentioning the fact that, as far as he knew, Bella had no idea where he lived.

"Thanks, Danny," beamed Bella. She touched him gently on the arm, offering him a tired, grateful smile. For the briefest moment, Danny could almost believe that she wasn't an enemy, wasn't Vlad's spy or the frightening new apparition he had been warned about. For the briefest moment, he could almost believe that she was just a girl who needed his help, a fellow hybrid, a potential friend.

Almost.

"It's nothing," said Danny, moving away from her.

Bella's fingers closed on the material of his sleeve, as if she was afraid of losing him. "It's such a relief," she said, almost insistently. "to finally find someone who understands what I'm going through. Not just about the half-ghost thing either. I mean, I've moved around a lot ever since my dad died, and I don't have many friends because of it. Of course, there are always guys like Dash—" Here, she rolled her eyes dramatically. "—and getting hit on all the time gets really old really fast. But you're not like that. You're the first person I've really felt a connection with." She smiled up at him, her expression full of admiration and something else Danny couldn't name, but occasionally caught in the creases around Sam's eyes when she smiled. "I feel…oh, this is going to sound silly, but I feel like I was supposed to meet you." She blushed prettily, her fingers flickering to Danny's shoulder.

Danny' mouth twisted sharply in confusion, and he raised an eyebrow. His instinct was telling him to shove Bella away and run, but he was pretty certain that was out of the question. She wasn't doing anything that would warrant such an extreme reaction, at least not yet, anyway. She was just sort of…staring at him, like she had seen something wonderful, her cold fingers pressed against the nape of his neck.

"Er, Bella?" began Danny, leaning away from the girl uneasily. Her free hand moved to brush his cheek, and Danny felt himself begin to panic as Bella's fingers pressed against his mouth.

"It's alright," she whispered. "I know exactly how you feel."

Danny wanted very badly to disagree, loudly and vehemently—it most certainly was _not _alright, and he was a flying monkey with four heads if she had even the vaguest notion of how he felt at that moment. But he couldn't. It wasn't for lack of trying, certainly. He did try, but the only sound he made was something that sounded vaguely like "Hunh!"

_It took him a full ten seconds_

_to find out what was amiss._

_His vocal chords were not at fault._

_What stopped his speech was this:_

_that Bella, without warning, had_

_lifted her face to his_

_and pressed upon unwilling lips_

_the soft ghost of a kiss._

When the bell rang indicating the end of the lunch period, the double-doors of the cafeteria slammed open, releasing a stampede of rowdy students, and it was at this point that Bella finally pulled away from a Danny who had been too stunned to do more than stand like a board under her hands.

"Oh my god, Bella, what are you doing?" Paulina rushed over and gripped her new friend by the arm. "You'll get dork all over your beautiful, expensive sweater!" She dusted Bella off carefully, as if truly afraid that she might be infected with some invisible pathogen that, if not treated properly, might be fatal to her social life. Behind her, Dash grimaced and cracked his knuckles in an unspoken threat.

"Relax, Paulina," laughed Bella. "My sweater can survive anything Danny can throw at it. Well, not literally, maybe," she admitted with another laugh. "But it's not going to fall apart just because I touch him."

"You don't know that," replied Paulina, eyeing Danny skeptically as though she really believed that the destruction of Bella's sweater was his secret intent.

Danny opened and closed his mouth lamely a few times, and Bella shot him a sympathetic "do you find this as ridiculous as I do?" look. Noticing this, Dash stepped between the two, holding out a hand to Bella.

"Come on," he said with his most winsome smile. "You can do way better than Fenturd. I'll walk you to class."

Bella scowled at him, crossing her arms. "I'm sorry, but I fail to see anyone better than Danny available at the moment," she snapped. "Though I do see someone who is apparently delusional." With a disgusted noise, she stepped around the jock and went to Danny, taking his hand in her own. "Let's go, Danny," she said, her angry eyes still fixed on Dash.

Paulina was dumbstruck. "But," she protested. "You're rich!"

"No, I'm not," replied Bella. "My uncle is. My mom works for the postal service—I'm a comfortable middle class, thank you very much. Coming, Danny?"

Danny looked down at her, utter bewilderment stamped clearly across his face. "I, uh, I have to go to the bathroom," he sputtered lamely.

Bella was suddenly all smiles. "I'll see you in class, then," she said sweetly. "I'll save you a seat." Before Danny could move, she kissed him on the cheek and started down the hall. The crowd of students seemed to follow after her like a pack of leashed, love-struck puppies. Several boys—many of whom Danny could swear he'd never seen before in his life—congratulated him enviously as they passed. Danny nodded half-heartedly at them, covering his face with his hands and groaning.

"So, that's what the two of you had to talk about, huh?"

Danny moved his hands to find Tucker standing before him, fury and resentment etched into every line of his face.

"Tucker," he explained, taking a step towards his friend. "That wasn't what you think. I had no idea she was going to—"

"Save it," said Tucker, his voice hollow. He started to leave, but stopped and turned to Danny. "You know, I thought you were my friend," he told Danny.

"I _am_ your friend!" Danny couldn't believe what he'd just heard. "Tuck, we've been friends since we were in diapers! After everything we've been through together, you're going to stop being my friend over a girl you've known for all of twenty minutes?"

"This isn't just about Bella," snarled Tucker. "It's the principle of it, Danny. I really like this girl, and you knew that. And you went behind my back and kissed her, anyway. How do you think that makes me feel about the importance of our friendship to you?"

"Tuck, this is just a big misunderstanding," insisted Danny frantically. "I don't even like Bella!"

"Oh, great," snapped Tucker. "Just great. You know what, Danny? I'm done being your friend. Forget it."

Waving off Danny's protests, Tucker turned his back and disappeared down the hallway. A frustrated growl erupted at the back of Danny's throat. He pounded his head against the lockers, wondering when exactly his friends had decided that they hated each other—and, apparently, him.

Danny was late to class. As promised, Bella had saved a seat for him, and since both Sam and Tucker—who had apparently reconciled—seemed to want nothing to do with him, he was stuck sitting next to her. His friends—he still thought of them in those terms, regardless of whether or not they felt the same way—sat next to one another in the back corner of the room, very pointedly not paying attention to him, while Bella assaulted him with polite, flirty chatter for the entire class. When reprimanded by the teacher, she passed him snarky notes, complete with little doodles. Danny was unsure what exactly endeared him to her—he had never been particularly nice to her; in fact, he was pretty sure that he had been borderline rude to her since the moment they'd met. The fact that he was half-ghost—something he still hadn't even technically admitted to her—seemed to be the only reason he could cite for the mysterious attraction.

The rest of the day felt like it took twice as long as usual. Danny tried to find his friends after school, but they had disappeared by the time he got into the hallway. He managed to avoid Bella, slipping out of Casper High and making his way home slowly. It felt like he was carrying the weight of his problems in his backpack, made into something tangible crafted from steel and stone that threatened to break through the thin canvas of the bag. He hoped he could have a while to himself before Bella showed up, but she was already sitting on the sofa in his living room when he arrived.

"Danny," his mother greeted him at the door. "You didn't tell us you had a girlfriend!" She grinned broadly.

"Bella's not my girlfriend, mom," replied Danny darkly.

Bella waved at him from the couch, a smile on her lips. "It's okay, Danny, I already told her."

Danny ground his teeth.

…

"You look…happy." Ghost Writer sounded frightened.

Fic Writer turned a dreamy smile up at him. "Hm? I suppose that's because I am," she replied.

Ghost Writer narrowed his eyes at her. "I know I'll regret this later, but, ah, why are you happy?"

"You can't tell?" The ghost girl indicated the screen emphatically with one hand, her expression sharpening worryingly. "The slash is coming."

* * *

You can practically smell it, it's so close. :D

Were _you_ expecting the Spanish Inquisition?

Thumbs Up, Down or Sideways? Drop me a line and let me know!


	4. Chapter 4 When Slash Attacks

**Summary:** When a recently deceased Danny Phantom fan is snubbed by her favorite cartoon character, she seeks the aid of Ghost Writer and his Keyboard to carry out her revenge using the only weapon she has: Fanfiction!

**Disclaimer:** If it was on Nick, it isn't mine.

**Warnings **for this chapter are for a Mary Sue and, horror of horrors, SLASH. It's Danny/Vlad, and, as such, I sort of inadvertently aged Danny up in my head. Not sure how that happened...

To my wonderous, fabulous reviewers! (Sorry about the _insane_ wait.)

**cartoon-crazy987**-Thank you so much for the review! I'm glad to hear that you're enjoying the story so far, and I hope you like this chapter.

**Granite Ghost**-Yep, slash was one of the warnings I mentioned in the first chapter...wasn't it? Shoot, I hope I didn't forget to mention it... It's not serious slash, in any case. And did someone say Clockwork? Haha, he won't be involved in this chapter, but I'm not saying he won't be in this story at all! Anyway, thank you for the review, and I hope you enjoy!

**werewolf5**-Ah, I'm sorry to hear that you're so strongly opposed to slash, as it's a pretty necessary plot device in this chapter. I do believe it warned that it would be coming, and it's played more to freak Danny out than for the sake of slashiness itself. Personally, I also think Danny/Valerie is pretty dern cute. :3 That aside, thank you for your review. I do appreciate you letting me know how you feel about the story.

**Lost MP**-You are most welcome! Thank you thank you thank you for the incredibly kind review! I hope you continue to enjoy. :D

**Kitty Fowl**-Well, gosh, thanks for the sweet review

I'm flattered beyond words.

Rhyming can be quite difficult,

but literary nerds-

I proudly count myself in this-

can also find it fun.

I'm grateful for your lovely words-

hope you enjoy this one!

And, finally to the unsigned review-here you go! This chapter's for you guys!

* * *

...

Before Ghost Writer could properly process what he was doing, he had reared back and slapped Fic Writer across the face. Crying out in surprise, she stared up at him, cradling her injured cheek, her mouth a horrified O.

"Did…did you just h-hit me?" she demanded, the sudden sting of pain filling the back of her throat with the thick threat of tears.

Ghost Writer hesitated for only a moment, finally lifting his chin and staring down at the ghost girl with all the confidence he could muster. "I…well, yes," he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. It was difficult to sound proud when taking credit for hitting a girl.

Fic Writer continued to gaze up at him in shock. "I…_why?_" she demanded. "What did I—shoot, _ow, _GW, that _hurt!_" she glared at him accusingly.

He wanted to apologize, but he couldn't honestly say that she hadn't done anything to deserve it. So he settled for a shrug. "You said 'slash.' I panicked."

Fic Writer glared at him, the pain ebbing away until it was nothing more than a sore warmth on her face. "Well, I wasn't gonna slash _you_," she murmured indignantly. "Though now I might be having second thoughts about that decision." At the murderous look on Ghost Writer's face, she held up her hands and squeaked out a hurried, "Kidding!"

Ghost Writer sent her a skeptical look over his glasses, and Fic Writer could almost feel herself shrink. She scooted closer to the keyboard, cringing as if she could hide behind it and disappear. When he was satisfied that he had sufficiently frightened her—it wasn't generally something he supported, scaring people, but under the circumstances he thought it perfectly acceptable—Ghost Writer allowed the hostility to fall out of his expression, and he saw the ghost girl relax.

Still, maybe it wouldn't hurt to reinforce his message—repetition was the key to learning, wasn't it? Or was that just with dogs?

A smug smile flickering over his lips, Ghost Writer said, "Well, I think we should avoid jokes that in the future, hm?"

"Or you could get a sense of humor," muttered Fic Writer, leaning over the keyboard and barely moving her lips as she spoke.

"What was that?" asked Ghost Writer.

Fic Writer swung around to face him, a huge smile plastered to her face. "I said I'm sorry if I upset you," she replied, her words swimming in nervous laughter.

"And?" prompted Ghost Writer.

The late fangirl slumped in defeat. "And…I will avoid jokes that in the future," she said, so quietly and quickly that she was almost unintelligible. She shot a scowl up at Ghost Writer. "Happy?"

"It'll do," he replied, patting her distractedly on the head.

Fic Writer glanced at him through her hair, her mouth twisted thoughtfully to the side. She opened her mouth, sucked in a defiant breath, and said, "There will be slash, though. That, I'm afraid, is unavoidable."

Ghost Writer frowned, upset at his apparent lack of ability to keep the girl under control for any amount of time. "You don't think the Mary Sue is enough?" he asked. It was worth a shot.

In response, a bright, bubbly, and indisputably evil laugh erupted from Fic writer's mouth. "You're funny," she told Ghost Writer fondly.

…

Bella went to Danny and took his hand, smiling like she was claiming a prize. "Your mom and I have been talking while I was waiting for you to come home. You never told me she was so cool!"

"Why, thank you, Bella!" Maddie seemed thoroughly charmed by the girl, beaming at her as though she were her own child.

"Oh, I'm only being honest, Mrs. Fenton," Bella assured her. Then, recognizing what Danny's mother was about to say from her benevolent, if somewhat hassled, expression, the girl laughed and corrected herself. "I mean, Maddie." She giggled. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Fenton, I just can't get used to calling you that."

Maddie placed a hand on Bella's shoulder, leaning in and laughing like a high school girl sharing secrets with her closest pal. "Bella, I insist. You're practically part of the family!"

Danny felt his jaw fall slack. _What_ had his mother just said? Had he missed something? To his knowledge, she and Bella had met all of half and hour ago, at the most. When had they had time to become best friends?

Bella grinned, returning Maddie's excitement. "Then why don't I call you 'Mom'?" she jested, and Maddie squealed in delight.

"Oh, would you? I've always wanted a daughter!"

At this, Danny was compelled to speak. "Mom, you _have_ a daughter," he reminded his mother pointedly. He hoped he was the only one who could hear the horror in his voice.

Maddie glanced at him for a moment as if trying to place exactly who he was. "I know that," she snapped. "I was just joking. Jeez, relax, Danny." Something in her tone reminded Danny vaguely of the way Paulina spoke to Sam. He felt nauseous.

Bella turned to Danny with a wrinkle of concern in her forehead. "Are you feeling okay?" she asked. "You look a little sick. Maybe you should lie down."

Danny, not expecting this sudden turn of topic, blinked at her blankly. Her voice was worried, but there was something urgent in the rise of her eyebrows. When he didn't respond quickly enough, she turned to Maddie and said, "I can take him up to his room and help him get into bed, if you want." There was something so severely matronly in her voice that the words managed to be about as suggestive as flannel pajamas.

Maddie nodded. "I'll go get the thermometer," she agreed.

"I feel fine," objected Danny. He didn't feel sick in any way that bed rest could fix, and he really had no desire to be alone with Bella. That was, in fact, the last thing in the world that he wanted at the moment. Give him Skulker busting through the window with a glowing net, Technus invading his computer and erasing his biology paper, even Youngblood was preferable to this. None of them gave him the same sick feeling of _wrong_ in the pit of his stomach.

But his protests went entirely ignored. Maddie pressed the back of her hand to her son's forehead, frowning thoughtfully.

"You don't feel warm," she observed. "Is your tummy upset?" She made a disapproving _tsk_ sound with her tongue. "It was probably something you ate. I've never trusted that cafeteria food."

"No, Mom, I feel fine. Really." Danny gave his mother a weak smile. She wasn't looking at him like something nasty she'd found on the bottom of her shoe, anymore, but there was still something about her that made him uncomfortable, and of course that fact in and of itself worried him. She was his mother! Danny loved and respected her more than words could say, but right now he couldn't shake the feeling that something about her was out of place, like if he looked closely enough, he would notice that the color of her eyes was wrong.

Bella peered at Danny over his mother's shoulder. "He looks pale," she noted gravely, and Danny shot her an angry look.

"My poor boy." Maddie pressed a palm against Danny's cheek, and, for a brief moment, Danny could almost believe that this was the mother he knew, the one who had shared sodas with him when he was little—and when he was a little older—and cooked him breakfast and scolded Jazz for teasing him and saved his life and defeated his arch-enemy in a way that Danny never could.

And then he caught a glimpse of Bella out of the corner of his eye, and his mother went blurry at the edges.

"Bella, get him to bed. I'll be up in a while to check his temperature and bring him some soup and orange juice." Maddie turned from Danny to address the girl, and he couldn't stop the feeling of betrayal that seared through his veins.

"Alright, Maddie." Bella placed a gentle hand on Danny's shoulder. "Come _on_, Danny." A smile flickered about her lips, like she and Danny knew something great that no one else in the world did. Danny grimaced.

"Mom, I—" he found himself lost for words, a thousand dictionaries worth of sentences glued firmly to the tip of his tongue. There was so much he needed to say, so much he didn't understand. He felt like he might choke.

Maddie smiled, reaching out to ruffle her son's hair fondly. "Go on upstairs, Danny. I'll be there in a little while."

Danny swallowed hard, frustration and tears almost indistinguishable from one another as they tightened his throat. "Okay," he said quietly, defeated.

Bella's hand fell to clutch his wrist, and every emotion but anger flew out the window. Whatever she had to say to him had better be good.

Danny yanked his arm away from Bella, who seemed not even to notice, and followed her upstairs, his hands shoved into his pockets. He would give her a chance to explain herself—a part of him still held on to the vain, crazy hope that this was all somehow some big misunderstanding.

Bella herded Danny into his bedroom, her expression earnest and excited, but serious. She closed the door behind him, locked it. She turned around slowly, picking nervously at her cuticles.

"So, what did you need to talk to me about?" Danny asked, the impatience in his voice practically palpable.

_Bella glanced away from Danny,_

_gnawing her full bottom lip._

_The confidence in her sweet face_

_began to subtly slip._

"_I really need your help, here—_

_it's about my Uncle Vlad._

_He is planning something, Danny,_

_and I'm scared it might be bad."_

Danny froze. The frigid pinpricks of cold sweat broke out along his forehead, and his ears filled with something like static. "Wh-what did you just say?"

But it wasn't the words that made Danny feel like his heart was stopping. It was the fact that Bella had very obviously rhymed in speaking them.

"I need your help, Danny." Bella was shaking, now. She laced her fingers together tightly and dropped onto Danny's bed as if her legs had ceased to support her. "You know how dangerous my uncle can be. He's my family, and I…I love him, Danny, I really do, but I can't keep looking the other way anymore."

Danny eyed her with skeptical interest, her previous foray into verse still lingering heavily in the back of his mind. "What are you talking about?"

_Bella's eyes were glistening,_

_full of tears, and silver-blue,_

_like a shining sunken treasure,_

_lost with captain, ship, and crew_

_in a storm of epic power_

_brewed from ancient, godly rage,_

_and remembered through the eons,_

_sung and read, from age to age._

_Pearls of liquid wet her lashes,_

_falling from her sapphire eyes,_

_dripping down onto the bedspread_

_from her bright orbs like the skies._

"_I'm so worried," she told Danny._

"_Vlad's hatched up a dangerous plan._

_Please, you have to say you'll help me_

_stop him any way we can."_

She was rhyming, again, but there was something about what Bella was saying that caught Danny's attention. He was more than willing to believe that Vlad was up to something—he usually was—and Danny knew he would never be able to forgive himself if he let his dislike and suspicion of Bella keep him from stopping Vlad. But the rhyming…Danny was beginning to feel like he was paranoid, going crazy.

But there was also a part of him that didn't really believe that Vlad was up to anything at all—well, at least not anything to do with the most pressing concerns Danny was facing at the moment, also known as Bella and the fact that he no longer seemed to recognize anyone he once used to think he knew. But that was a much less familiar worry, and, therefore, not the one that Danny felt the greatest compulsion to confront at the moment.

Vlad, on the other hand, was a problem that he'd had to solve several times already, and he'd done a pretty good job of it at that, in his opinion.

"Will you help me?" Bella looked at Danny so imploringly that it was almost uncomfortable.

"You…haven't really told me what's going on," replied Danny slowly, leaning away from her.

Bella frowned, anger drawing a crease between her eyebrows. "Is that important?"

'Is that imp—? Is she serious?' Danny watched Bella wordlessly for a moment, half-expecting her to say something else. When she didn't, Danny said, "Um, yeah…it sort of is."

"Why?" demanded Bella, crossing her arms. "Don't you believe me?" She let out an angry huff of breath, which turned pale green as it hit the air before her. She jumped and stared down at it in surprise at the mist dispersed and faded away.

"Oh no." Bella's voice was barely a whisper as she pressed her hands to her mouth.

"What is it?" Danny got the distinct impression that he was missing something.

"My ghost sense," replied Bella, still staring, half-horrified, at the air in front of her. She breathed out again, slowly, and seemed to study the way the green smoke curled up as it left her mouth. "It's Skulker."

Danny blinked. "Wait, what? How do you know?"

"I can tell from the way my ghost sense looks," explained Bella, her bottom lip disappearing between her teeth. "He's still pretty far away—you shouldn't be picking up on his presence for another few minutes." At the puzzled look on Danny's face, she added, "My ghost sense is super-sensitive. It was…designed that way." Her voice trailed off slightly at the end of her sentence, as if the words were painful to speak.

"What does that mean, 'designed that way?'" demanded Danny. Bella was hiding something from him, and after all the trouble she'd caused him, secrets were not acceptable.

Bella glanced away. "I…this didn't happen to me because of an accident, the way it happened to you, Danny. I was made half-ghost by my uncle." She held out an arm and pointed to the crook of her elbow. "He injected me with ectoplasm and some of your DNA, and then he had me stand inside the deactivated ghost portal and turned it on. Everything went white, and when I came to, I was…different. My hair was this funny blue color, and I felt cold all over. That was when my uncle explained what had happened to me, what I had become."

Was that even possible? Danny was unable to speak for a very long time, caught somewhere between being horrified, disbelieving, and completely baffled. "And this happened against your will?" he asked when he finally rediscovered his voice.

"Well, not exactly," replied Bella, and at least she had the decency to look sheepish. "My uncle asked me to help him with an experiment he was working on, and I agreed because I trusted him." She snorted angrily. "So much for that."

"And…you didn't know what sort of experiment this was," said Danny. "Meaning you had no idea what sort of effect it would have on you. Meaning that you let Vlad inject you with who-knew-what and put you into a machine that, at the time, you had no idea the purpose of. Am I getting all this right?"

"Yes," responded Bella, and if Danny didn't know better he would think that she was beginning to realize how incredibly thick her story made her sound. "But I only did it because he's my uncle and I trusted him! And then, stupid me, I thought what happened as a result was so cool that I forgave him. He had specially designed the mixture he injected me with to make me more powerful than you, and he immediately took me under his wing and taught me how to use my new powers. I felt really lucky."

"Alright." Danny watched Bella hesitantly, all of a second and a half away from a pretty epic case of freaking the heck out. He took a deep breath and held it for longer than he might have previously thought possible, and when he let it out, it slipped from his lips in a slice of blue mist. Oh no.

Danny planted his feet into his carpet, his hands clenching into fists. "I'm going ghost!" he announced, activating his ghost form with a bright flash of light. Beside him, Bella took on a similar stance, her mouth set.

"Go, go, ghost powers!" she cried, pumping one fist enthusiastically into the air. Danny bit back the urge to laugh.

_The air was filled with music_

_and a thousand dancing lights, _

_bathing Bella in their soft glow,_

_hiding her slim form from sight._

_Danny was left blinking wildly_

_as her new ghost-form appeared,_

_like an angel from the heavens,_

_when the sparkles finally cleared._

_Her skin was near-transparent,_

_flawless, paler than the moon,_

_clearer than the vivid blue sky_

_of a summer afternoon._

_Her hair hung down in curtains_

_of a dark and haunting blue—_

_smooth as silk and soft as velvet—_

_which she ran her fingers through_

_as she turned to look at Danny_

_with a pair of turquoise eyes,_

_flecked with specks of gold and starlight,_

_meant to daze and hypnotize._

_A short cape hung from her shoulders_

_over her white, skintight suit_

_that hugged her curves like second skin_

_and fell low in front to boot._

_Her gloves and boots were sleek and chic,_

_both tight and midnight blue._

_They matched her cape and gauzy skirt,_

_her belt and logo, too._

_No, there could be no doubting_

_that she was dressed to impress—_

_to top it off, two letters_

_finished off the suit: BS._

_They stood for Bella Specter,_

_as that was her alias,_

_and she spread her arms to Danny_

_with no lack of slick finesse._

"What do you think?" Bella beamed at Danny like a stage actress waiting for applause at the end of a performance.

Danny's attention was focused on his window, searching for signs of a ghost's approach. "I think we've got a fight on our hands," he replied. "At least if you're right and it is Skulker, we'll have him outnumbered."

Bella giggled, which surprised Danny enough to make him look at her. "That's not what I meant," she replied. "I was asking what you think about my ghost form!"

Irritated, Danny rolled his eyes and returned his gaze to the window. "It's fine," he said hastily. "You look fine. Can we please focus, now?"

Bella muttered something under her breath that sounded almost like, "men" and exhaled like she'd practiced it. The mist that trickled from her mouth swung sharply to the right, and she turned in that direction just in time to face the hulking form of Skulker as he crashed in through the wall, a net protruding from the pack on his back and a familiar, wicked green sword from the console on his wrist.

Letting out a cry of surprise, Danny launched himself into the air, readying two fists full of ecto-energy, but Bella stepped between him and the hunter with her hands on her hips like an annoyed babysitter.

_Skulker frowned and vacillated_

_in the rubble he had made,_

_glared at Bella and retracted_

_both his net and glowing blade._

"_So I see you've met the Project,"_

_the ghost chuckled in his throat._

"_Mr. Masters will be happy."_

_He grinned, pulled out a remote,_

_went to push the only button_

_with a leer of eerie pride,_

_but was suddenly prevented_

_when Bella knocked it aside._

_A blazing ecto-beam blazed out_

_like lightning 'cross the space—_

_a crackling, electric blue_

_hit Skulker in the face._

"_You little brat!" he spat with rage._

"_You _will _regret that move."_

_He clapped a hand 'round Bella's arm,_

_and though she tried to shove_

_the mammoth of a ghost away,_

_it didn't do much good._

_Bella gave him a wincing smile—_

_she hadn't thought it would._

"Sorry about that." Bella laughed nervously, whipping around to face Danny with a hissed command of, "Danny, don't just stand there! Are you gonna help me or what?"

Danny nodded, setting his mouth into a firm line. Like her or not, he couldn't stand by while Bella got hurt, especially not if she knew something about Vlad that Danny didn't. He fixed his eyes on Skulker.

"Let her go, Skulker," he commanded with all the authority he could muster.

_A sharp, derisive chortle_

_was the hunter's dry reply._

"_Sorry, whelp, no deal," he answered._

"_Half-ghosts are in short supply,_

_and since I can never capture_

_you, I'll just have to take her._

_Sure, it's a consolation prize,_

_But she _is_ prettier."_

"Danny, don't let him take me!" howled Bella furiously, thrashing desperately in Skulker's grip like a captured trout. "He'll bring me to my uncle, and Vlad will kill me for betraying him! I know he will!"

"_This little troublemaker—"_

_Skulker tugged at Bella's shirt._

"—_has her uncle very worried;_

_he thought that she had been hurt._

_He'll be so glad to see you safe,_

_and know just where you went._

_I'm sure that he'll forgive you,_

_after some small punishment."_

_And before Danny could stop him,_

_or could even try to help,_

_Skulker left the way he'd come in_

_with a shout of "See you, whelp!"_

Danny shot to the gap in the wall through which Skulker had vanished, but the ghost—and his captive—were gone, leaving not even so much as a sign of which direction he had gone in. At that point, Danny was seized with two very strong, simultaneous, and completely contradictory urges: on the one hand, he knew that he should follow Skulker, make an attempt to rescue Bella, and maybe force some sort of explanation out of Vlad about all the weird things that had been happening since the older hybrid's niece had shown up at Casper High. Then again, on the other, hand, there was the decidedly un-heroic little voice in the back of Danny's mind that was singing secret Hallelujahs in celebration of Bella's (albeit forced) exit from his life. There was always the possibility, it whispered suggestively, that, if he left the matter alone, he might never see the girl again. Everything might go back to normal. But even considering that, Danny was painfully aware that he would never be satisfied without an explanation. Something was not right, and he had to know what it was.

Sighing, Danny tried not to think about what would happen if his mother came upstairs and saw the massive hole where once he'd had a bedroom wall as he launched himself into the air and headed for Wisconsin.

…

"Does he know the way to Wisconsin by heart?" Ghost Writer seemed dubious as he asked this, shifting so he could point to the line of print he was referring to over Fic Writer's shoulder.

The girl paused, contorted one ghostly eyebrow. "I hadn't considered that," she admitted finally. "I guess he must."

"Has he flown there often, then? Or was he just paying very close attention the few times he's gone there?" Ghost Writer was in full-blown professional editor mode, which Fic Writer supposed was a good thing—she would take it as a sign that he'd gotten over the whole slashing situation—but it was getting a little nitpicky, and it was a little irritating.

"Well I can't very well have him bring a map with him, now can I?" She scowled. "Cut me some slack here, it's only a ki—" Fic Writer stopped short. "Only a kid's cartoon," she'd been about to say. She looked back at the monitor, hoping that Ghost Writer wouldn't notice her near slip, or wouldn't care enough to mention it.

Of course she couldn't be so lucky. "Only a what?"

"Only a…" Fic Writer fought for an appropriate word, wracking her brain with the sort of desperate futility only the potent combination of panic and necessity could provide. "Nothing. Never mind. Just let it go, okay? He knows the way to Wisconsin."

If Ghost Writer noticed the worried hostility in her voice, this time he let it go. "Well, I would put something in verse about it, if I were you," he suggested casually. "Just to be sure."

Fic Writer nodded. "Good idea."

…

_Danny flew on auto-pilot,_

_for he knew the way by heart._

_He was keen to get some answers, _

_and he knew now where to start._

Danny was grateful for the cover of the falling darkness as he touched down in front of Vlad's enormous mansion of a house. Hopefully, the element of surprise was still on his side on this one. A confrontation of some kind was probably inevitable, he knew, but a part of Danny couldn't help but hope that he might be able to avoid a physical fight. He'd been able to defeat Vlad in combat in the past, but a single day with Bella had left him mentally exhausted and far from peak condition. He wasn't sure if he could win a battle with the _Box Ghost_ right now.

Phasing through the front door, Danny found the huge foyer empty and dark. There was, however, a long slice of gold-hued light extending like a welcoming hand from a room just around the bend in the hallway to Danny's right, and the boy followed it cautiously.

"This could very easily be a trap," he muttered under his breath, continuing to edge forward towards the promise of light if for no other reason than the fact that he couldn't think of a single other thing to do. On Danny's right, directly ahead of him, was a heavy-looking door made of dark, polished wood, cracked open only far enough to emit the line of light that had attracted Danny's attention. Gathering a steady concentration of ecto-energy into his hands just in case, Danny shouldered the door open further and peered nervously into the room beyond.

_A voice— familiar, velvety—_

_called Danny from within;_

"_Good evening, Daniel," it said._

"_Now, now, don't be shy—come in."_

Danny recognized Vlad's voice immediately, inching forward to peer into the dimly-lit room. Across an expanse of plush carpet was a brick fireplace—the fire currently blazing away contently within was the only source of light in the room. Silhouetted against the blaze was a high red armchair, and Danny could just make out the outline of an arm draped casually over the side. He should've realized that Vlad would be expecting him—the man always seemed to be one step ahead of Danny; why would this time be any exception?

"_To what do I owe this visit?_

_Oh, please do not get me wrong—_

_I do always love to see you,_

_but, dear boy, it's been so long._

_Is it you've come to your senses_

_and returned to me for good?"_

_Then, pushing aside his armchair,_

_Vlad set down his drink and stood._

For a long moment, Danny could do nothing but stand and gape at Vlad, horror pumping what felt like ice water through his veins. It was becoming more and more difficult, Danny had to admit, to ignore the creeping feeling that something was wrong that was not Vlad's doing when Vlad himself was now speaking in rhyme. No, maybe Danny had just imagined it; this was Vlad, not Bella. He might not _like_ the man, but at least he knew what to expect from him. Vlad was lonely, creepy, obsessive, ruthless, and never seemed to decide whether he wanted to kill Danny or adopt him, but he definitely wasn't a poet. One more couplet, and Danny might allow himself to panic, but for now he continued on in nervous denial.

"I think you already know the answer to that, Vlad." He spat the name contemptuously, feeling as though he needed to prove his dislike for the man to himself as much as he needed to remind Vlad of it. He didn't wait for a response before cutting to the chase: "And if anyone owes someone an answer, it's you."

Vlad's smile drifted downward in puzzled curiosity. "Is that so? I'm afraid that I haven't the faintest idea of what you're talking about."

"Not 'what,'" Danny corrected him. "'Who.' I met your niece today."

"_Ah." Vlad's face fell only slightly,_

_and his grin was back quite soon._

_Danny met his eyes and—oh god—_

_needed to suppress a swoon._

_At the first glimpse of those dark eyes, _

_Danny's heart took off to beat_

_like a rabbit's, with a pulse that_

_he could feel from head to feet._

_And when Vlad reached out a hand to_

_place a touch on Danny's arm,_

_he jumped back like he'd been burned, but_

_from shock, not out of alarm._

_Vlad looked almost hurt by that move._

_Danny didn't linger long_

_on the guilt that he was feeling;_

_he knew he had to be strong._

Danny held his arm protectively, like Vlad had stabbed him, not simply touched him, and glared at the man. Though Vlad's hands were not glowing with any obvious, tell-tale crackles of energy, and the fact Danny was undeniably still in his ghost form, the lingering suspicion that Vlad was concealing an ecto-based weapon refused to be dispelled. So it wasn't the Plasmius Maximus—that much was obvious—but Vlad was coming up with new, more sinister weapons with something that neared the frequency with which Danny's father created ghost-tracking weapons that never failed to lock in on Danny. Whatever it was, it had sent a shock through Danny's body the moment it had made contact with him—not _painful,_ exactly, but sufficient to make Danny dizzy. His head was still swimming, which must have been why he was currently unable to properly process all the things currently flooding through it. There was no other way to describe the uncomfortable, guilty, prickling sensation now swimming around in the pit of his stomach.

"S-stay back, Vlad," stammered Danny, feeling as though he was talking around his own pulse. "I don't want to fight you right now."

Vlad smirked. "No, I can't imagine that you do." His tone was heavy with layers of meaning that Danny chose to ignore.

Danny frowned, taking another step back, away from Vlad. "Where's Bella?" he demanded, tossing out the first question that came to his mind. "What did you do to her? She told me what you're planning, Vlad, I—"

Before Danny could finish the sentence, the room was washed in a blast of ultraviolet light, and Plasmius had him pinned against the far wall by his wrists. "First of all, Daniel," he said, surprisingly calm, but also much too close to Danny for the teen's comfort. "That sort of talk is not the way to avoid a fight. Secondly, Bella is absolutely fine, I assure you of that. She's a foolish girl; I should hope you would have known better than to believe her."

Danny paled. Since he'd only been bluffing, and really knew nothing of the new scheme that Vlad was plotting, he could only steel his nerves and hope that what Bella had been about to tell him wasn't as ridiculous as Vlad now made it sound. No, no, Vlad was obviously just trying to make him feel stupid, and Danny was falling for it. He had to stick to his guns, or he was never going to get the answers he wanted. "Vlad, don't mak—"

_Whatever he had meant to say_

_was lost in mute surprise,_

_as Vlad leaned close with leering grin_

_and something in his eyes_

_that made Danny very nervous._

_Something cold went up his spine,_

_and his breath hitched in his throat as _

_Vlad's cold fingers traced a line—_

_careful touches, meant to tease—_

_across the curve of Danny's jaw._

_It felt like he had swallowed_

_living ice—cold, squirming, raw._

"G-get away from me." The angry growl with which Danny delivered this command was embarrassingly undermined by the tremor in his voice. Pausing a moment to gather his thoughts—it felt like something in his skull had fractured a bit, allowing everything vital within to leak, warm and useless, all over the place—Danny fired two ecto-beams point-blank at Vlad's chest, sending the older hybrid crashing backwards into the opposite wall. He felt triumphant—his usual aversion to Vlad was heightened by the indisputable sense of having been very seriously wronged by the man, a feeling that sung through Danny's nerves and ached in the wrists that Vlad had been holding just a little too tightly. Any doubt the teen had previously possessed that Vlad was up to something sinister that had, at any and all costs, to be stopped were well dispersed, now.

Across the room, Vlad rose shakily to his feet, one hand planted to the wall for support. Danny positioned himself to deliver another volley of ecto-energy. Vlad, noticing this, did nothing more than grin—a sharp, sinister expression—and Danny had to struggle to keep from falling when his knees buckled dangerously. His breath was coming with more than a little difficulty, now, and his face felt hot.

And he knew exactly who to blame. "What did you do to me, Vlad?" Danny could barely hear himself past the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. "Made some alterations to the Plasmius Maximus?"

For a moment, Vlad only looked puzzled.

_Then, a single jaunty eyebrow_

_arched up high, dark and amused._

_He looked far too pleased, and this made_

_Danny both scared and confused._

"_Now, dear boy, what makes you ask that?"_

_he asked, smile growing wide._

"_Feeling weak suddenly, are we?"_

_In what seemed like one quick stride,_

_Vlad had crossed the room, and, once more,_

_he was too close. Danny's back_

_hit wall—there was nowhere to go;_

_he felt himself go slack._

…

Ghost Writer made a clear noise of discomfort and took a step back from his post at Fic Writer's side. "Should I, ahem, turn the other way, yet?"

Fic Writer laughed, giving him a fond little smile over her shoulder. "Not yet," she said. "I'll warn you. Here: five…"

"I beg your pardon?"

"No time, GW! The countdown has begun. Four…"

…

"Vlad, I…I don't know what you're trying…to pull, here." It was difficult to think, to string words together into coherent sentences, and while Jazz would joke that this was always something Danny had trouble with, it was severe enough now to be seriously worrisome. "But I want…no, no part of it."

"_Now, now, Daniel," Vlad cooed softly_

_as one hand traced Danny's side._

"_Don't you know you oughtn't dismiss_

_something that you've never tried?_

_If you don't know what I'm doing,_

_then you cannot disapprove._

_Just relax—you might enjoy it."_

_Danny scowled, but didn't move._

…

"Three…I still need a bit of help here, GW."

"I thought there was no time? Ow! Alright, alright. Oh, god." Ghost Writer glanced at the monitor as quickly as possible while still retaining the words it bore. "Make the language more elaborate," he suggested, trying to be professionally detached from the subject matter. "Flowery…more unbelievable coming out of the characters."

Fic Writer smiled. "Thank you kindly, sir. Two…

…

_Danny now could feel his pulse,_

_a million heartbeats strong._

_In his ears it roared and crashed,_

_a distant ocean's song._

Something was wrong. Danny's mind was getting blurry, like a careless hand trailing across wet paint, smearing color into color until what had once been a clear picture was only an indecipherable blotch. He blinked hard, tried to clear his vision. It felt as though his skull was filling slowly with smoke; he couldn't find his own thoughts. There was a hand on his arm—was that Vlad?—and Danny clung to it like an anchor.

_Vlad was close enough to make it_

_difficult to his face._

_Danny's eyes crossed with the effort;_

_his head swam from the embrace,_

_from the small, enthralling closeness_

_that felt like the welcome end_

_of some trip he'd been fighting through,_

_some wrong he had to mend._

_The world itself had seemed to slow,_

_the moment stretched out thin,_

_and Danny could feel nothing but_

_Vlad's warm hand on his skin._

…

"One…" Fic Writer was unsettlingly gleeful.

…

It had to be some kind of poison, something designed to knock Danny out or weaken his powers temporarily. His pulse was racing, his head was spinning, and it felt like he'd swallowed a handful of living butterflies that were currently doing giddy cartwheels around in his stomach. Danny was simultaneously concerned, frightened, and disturbed. More than anything, every coherent thought left in his mind was screaming for him to shove Vlad away and run—forget Bella and get out of there right now.

_But Danny's legs seemed leaden;_

_he was rooted to the spot._

_He glanced at Vlad, who ducked in close,_

_and felt his stomach knot._

…

"Blastoff!"

…

_His breath came hard, the air seemed thick,_

_his vision dimmed, but then,_

_when Vlad's mouth gently met his own,_

_Danny could breathe again._

_His startled hands flew up and came_

_to rest against Vlad's chest,_

_and when Vlad moaned, deepened the kiss,_

_the teen did not protest._

_It was a constant, heady heat;_

_through Danny's veins it sung._

_He parted his lips willingly_

_when prompted by Vlad's—_

"WHAT THE FLIPPING _FRICK, _DUDE!" Danny's voice tore through the room, as loud and devastating as his Ghostly Wail. He delivered a powerful burst of ecto-energy to Vlad's chest, and Vlad was sent hurtling into a bookshelf, which in turn crashed down on top of him. Danny stared for a long moment at the spot where the older hybrid had fallen, both arms crossed, trembling, in front of his body. He was exhausted, shaking, and confused, but his most pressing emotion was the howling sense of violation that clawed through him like lightening. He was more than a little nauseous, but endeavored to push this aside and retain his concentration. If Vlad stood up, Danny needed to not be huddled behind a chair throwing up his intestines—that could wait until later. Right now, the teen intended to be ready to knock him back down.

From under the bookshelf, Vlad groaned faintly. The shelf itself shifted slightly, sending whatever books had managed to remain in place toppling to the carpeted floor. Then the white shoulder of Plasmius' costume appeared amongst the darkly-bound books, followed by the rest of Danny's aching nemesis. Letting out a roar of fury, Danny gathered everything within him to fire another sparking ecto-ray that smashed into its target with a satisfying crackle of discharged energy. Vlad hit the wall with a solid thud, then slid to the floor in a crumpled heap. For a moment, Danny worried that he had gone overboard with his attack and injured the man more than he had intended to—though, he admitted to himself with something like horror, he had intended to _hurt _Vlad—but Vlad stirred and lifted his head.

"Daniel…?" It sounded like his voice was coming from somewhere far away, faint and dimly confused.

Danny wanted to make a dramatic gesture, like marching over and seizing Vlad by the collar, but he was also wary of getting too close to him. So he maintained his distance, allowing his enemy a minute to breathe.

"Vlad, you crossed a _line,_" he seethed, gesturing sharply with one hand. Almost immediately, he realized how stupid that comment sounded; Vlad's existence seemed to revolve entirely around orchestrating the death of Danny's father and stealing Danny's mom, and _this _was crossing a line? Danny shook his head; no, no, those were all lines that Vlad had crossed, this was just the newest entry on a long list. Vlad never fought fair, despite the fact that he had admittedly come to see Danny as an equal in the years that they'd been interacting. Danny was no longer the spazzy, over-confident, 14-year-old fledgling half-ghost he had been upon their first meeting, and Vlad had longed since stopped going easy on him—or so he claimed; Danny doubted he'd ever really gone easy on him—but, back to the point, this. This was crossing a line.

This was _not okay._ Danny gripped his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. He couldn't get his heartbeat to slow, and he felt anxious and on-edge, nervous, jittery.

What in the world had made Vlad think it would be acceptable behavior on his part to kiss Danny?! And on top of that, since when had he started _wanting to_?!

'_You _let him_,' hissed a little voice,_

_buzzing in Danny's mind._

'_You didn't seem to mind it then,_

_or do I need remind_

_you of how obliging you were_

_when Vlad went for the kill?'_

"_If Bella doesn't drive me nuts, _

_I'm pretty sure _I _will,"_

muttered Danny, pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning, trying desperately to ignore such thoughts. It wasn't as though he felt conflicted about the matter. Honestly, he just felt really creeped out. Not that there was anything wrong with Vlad wanting to kiss whomever he did, in fact, want to kiss—just as long as he kept it _to himself_—but Danny had always just sort of assumed, since Vlad was so obsessed with Danny's mom and all, that he was…well, the possibility of Vlad wanting to kiss Danny had just never _occurred _to him. What did occur to him, however, was that he really didn't want to think about it, anymore, so he abandoned the line of thought like dropping something hot.

As Vlad stood slowly—Danny watching warily from his place across the room—he reverted to his human form, unable to keep up the energy required to keep up the guise of Plasmius. The way he looked at Danny was unbelievably sad, apology etched into his every feature. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off as the door to the room banged open with a sound like a cracking whip. Both Danny and Vlad startled, turning with wide eyes to see a very concerned, and perfectly safe, Bella bound in.

"Uncle Vlad! Are you alright? I heard a crash, and—Danny!" Bella gaped at the sight of her friend. Then her expression grew delighted. "Oh, Danny. You're here to save me, aren't you? I knew you cared." She crossed the room and threw her arms around Danny's neck; Danny found himself making awkward eye contact with Vlad over her head.

Bella pulled back to beam at him. "You really are such a hero, Danny," she said emphatically. "I'm so sorry for worrying you."

Danny finally placed the guilt in her tone, remembering suddenly why he had come to Wisconsin in the first place. "I thought you were in danger!" he informed her angrily, pushing her away. "You acted like Vlad was going to kill you!"

Bella pouted. "I'm sorry, Danny. I was just having so much fun with you. I didn't want to have to come back."

Vlad seemed to have recovered significantly, by now, though he still made no move to come any closer. He dusted off his suit, adjusted his cuffs, and smoothed back his hair. Then he crossed both arms and sent Bella a look that had Angry Parent written all over it. "Your mother is not going to pleased when she hears how you ran away like that, Bella," he said.

Bella turned to try her pout on her uncle, but he seemed as affected as Danny had been by the expression.

"You ran away? That's what all this is about?" Danny peeled Bella off his arm, around which she had wound herself tightly, and stepped away from her. "That's it? You ran away, and Vlad sent Skulker after you because he was _worried _about you. I can't believe I flew all the way over here for this."

"But, but, Danny! I did it for you!" Bella looked to be on the verge of tears, her bottom lip trembling dangerously. "I wanted to meet you; Uncle Vlad talks about you all the time, he practically never stops ta—"

Vlad cleared his throat loudly. This served its purpose of catching Bella's attention, and Vlad met her eyes and shook his head emphatically. Bella's head tilted on side, her mouth and eyebrows contorting in confusion.

"What?" she said.

Vlad pressed a hand to his forehead, smiled forcedly at his niece. "Nothing," he replied haggardly.

…

"I…didn't believe you'd really do it," stated Ghost Writer disbelievingly.

"I am a woman of my word, GW," replied Fic Writer, seeming quite pleased with herself. "You have to admit, though, I am incredibly efficient."

"Oh?" Ghost Writer raised an eyebrow, unable to hide the fond little smile that flickered about his lips. "How do you figure that?"

She grinned, holding up a single finger. "One action, oui? Vlad kisses Danny—stop making that face, GW, we're discussing theory, here. Be a professional, hm?—and I accomplish two things. One, Danny is freaked out, particularly because he kissed Vlad back. And oh, how I will have more fun with that later." At the horror-struck expression on Ghost Writer's face, she let out a small, nervous laugh and continued,

"And, two, I get Danny thinking. This is obviously neither normal behavior for Vlad, right? And I think we can pretty safely assume that it's not something Danny will be very eager to believe Vlad really _wanted _to do. So it's really just matter of time before he assumes that something more sinister is at work. My guess? He'll assume that Vlad has been overshadowed or brainwashed or put under mind-control or something. I push the slash a little more, bother him mercilessly with Bella, give his out-of-character friends another appearance, and presto! All signs point straight to me." She grinned expectantly at Ghost Writer, both index fingers pointedly excitedly towards herself.

"Yes," he said. "Well."

"Admit it, GW; I'm an evil genius." When his only response was a neutral sort of noise and a shrug, Fic Writer leaned toward him with an expression that was half-concerned, half-thwarted. "Something wrong, GW?"

Ghost Writer gave a startled, worried look. Then he narrowed his eyes. "No," he said sharply. "Don't leave the story alone for too long; if you leave Danny to his free will, he might leave."

"Ah, right. Thanks for the reminder, amigo." Fic Writer spun her chair around so that she was facing the keyboard, and her fingers took off across the keys once more.

…

Danny stayed for dinner—he wasn't sure why, exactly, but Vlad seemed so tired and remorseful and so unremittingly sad that, when he insisted that Danny allow him to have the chef fix him something, Danny couldn't say no. Besides, no one deserved to be left alone with Bella. Well, actually, if anyone deserved it, it was Vlad, but Danny had bewilderingly agreed to stay all the same. Vlad had barely looked at him before breezing out of the room, troubled and distracted like some Byronic hero, birthed from one of the countless novels that lined the walls.

"He knows that something's wrong, too." It occurred to Danny as revelations often will, creeping up and shocking him from behind, like an over-excited child just learning the principles of static electricity. Vlad knew. Danny remembered the moment when Vlad had looked up at him after Danny had thrown him against the wall. The way he had spoken Danny's name, it was as though his presence in his library had surprised him, like he had been waking slowly from the sort of sleep when people walk and talk and clean out their refrigerators without ever being aware of it.

Bella had somehow gotten close enough to thread her arm through Danny's again, and was leaning against him, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. "What was that?" she asked.

Danny sighed. "Nothing," he said.

* * *

RIP, my meter.

Desperately seeking Concrit. Let me know what you think!


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